


Mental Disorder

by Tshilaba



Category: Death Note
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-21
Updated: 2015-11-21
Packaged: 2018-05-02 16:07:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 22,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5254703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tshilaba/pseuds/Tshilaba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, Matt and Mello think they're crazy. Other times, they're sure it's Near.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He rubbed the back of the gamer, his friend, who was currently lying on his chest, half asleep. "Mattie?"

"Hmm?" Matt lifted his head to look up at the blond. "What's wrong, Mel?"

"Mm, nothing. Just curious if you were asleep or not," Mello responded.

"Oh." The gamer settled back down. After a few minutes of silence, he said, "Mihael, do you love me?"

"'Course I love you, Mail. You're my only one. My best friend," the blond insisted.

Matt sighed as he let Mello lace their fingers together. _If that's the truth, then why does my heart hurt so much…?_

* * *

"Mello."

Just the voice made me cringe. That voice, that was convincing me to lie to my best friend. If Matt knew about Near and I…God, it would tear him apart. I've seen him come close before, but I swore to myself I'd never be the cause of it. I'd murder anyone who did…but if I killed myself it would hurt him, too.

"Near, what is it? What do you want?" I said, hating myself for every word. I knew what the bastard wanted.

"You."

Me. Plain and simple. I seem to be a prize in this place. Girls wanna be fucked by me. Guys wanna fuck me. Hell, guys even wanna be fucked _by_ me. Apparently, _this_ little bastard falls into that last category.

"Where were you yesterday, Mello? I missed you."

Missed me? We're not even together! I'm with Matt, for Christ's sake! Oh, God. Matt…now I feel sick.

"Come on." Near led me to the broom closet we always went to. As soon as the door shut, he pulled me against him roughly. "Fuck me, Mello," he breathed, thrusting his hips against mine.

I groaned, not because it felt good, no. I've know from the time I took his virginity that this didn't feel good. It felt so…wrong. More wrong than a man fucking a child, more wrong than incest. It was wrong because I was hurting Matt. Not physically, but emotionally. They say what people don't know won't hurt them, but… I _know_ it will when they find out. I grabbed him, this bastard that's ruining my life, and slammed him against the floor. Within seconds, he'd pulled me out. I was limp, of course. How could I be hard when he's…when he's not…Matt?

"Oh, are you scared you'll hurt me?" he said, in that sickly, sweet voice he uses when it's just us.

"Yeah," I lied.

"I've taken it dry every time and I'm not hurt yet," he crooned as he started jerking me off.

"Yeah, well, you know what they say," I replied, propping myself up on my hands and knees. We don't do foreplay, he's tried and I refused. I'll only do that with the one I love, otherwise, it's just straight fucking.

"Mello?" Near said suddenly, as his pace increased dramatically.

Much as I hated myself, I began thrusting forward to meet him halfway. "What?"

"I know I've asked you this before, but…Why are you with Matt?"

I growled. _I'm tired of that damn question!_ "Because," I ground out, jerking his hand away. "I love him." I jerked Near's pants down and flipped him over onto his hands and knees before I slammed into him, hard.

"Nngha!" he cried out, letting his neck go limp. "I thought so…"

When we'd finished and were leaving the closet, Near spoke again.

"If you love him, then, why are you with me?" he said quietly.

Before I could answer, he walked off, leaving me alone.

* * *

Something wasn't right. I could feel it. Problem was, it's one of three things. A)Something's wrong, B)Mello's done something stupid, or C)Both. I really hoped it wasn't C because, well that was the worst of the three. I was practically running _through_ people find him. Where was he? Where was he! "Oof!" I felt something plow me into the wall, knocking the wind from me. Lips pressed against mine in a frenzied passion. My first thought was Mello, but that left instantly. When Mello starts things, he ends up topping and being that desperate would hurt me. I opened my eyes (closing them was my natural reaction to anyone or anything hitting me) to see, not Mello, but _Near_. "Fuck!" I tried to push him away.

Near's hand slid into my pants, and boxers, and he started jerking me off.

"Nngh!" I moaned, biting my lip until it bled.

He leaned up, still jerking me off, and licked the blood from my lips. He put his mouth near my ear and breathed, "Fuck me, Matt."

"Ugh," I groaned. I didn't…want to. But…I…ngha… _needed_ it. Mello was right when he said I was a whore, even if he was joking. All it took was a few seconds, touching the right place…and I was putty. "Ok-kay," I panted.

In less than a second, his hand left my pants and he was dragging me into a broom closet. He shut the door and said, "Doggy-style, no preparations?"

I nodded. I don't think I could have lasted through prep.

He undid his pants and, letting them fall around his ankles, got on his hands and knees.

The sight almost made me come right there.

##############################################################################

_A few weeks later…_

I can't believe I did that. God, it makes me sick to think that I betrayed my best friend. And I was asking him if _I_ was his only one.

"Hey, Mattie?" Mello looped his arm around my waist from behind, nuzzling against my neck. "Ya wanna make love?"

"I-I don't really feel like it," I managed weakly.

Mello pulled back and looked at me curiously. "Don't…feel…like…it?" he said quietly.

I shook my head. "Mm-mm."

He pushed my bangs aside and touched my forehead gently. "Well, you don't feel like you have a fever," he said. "Are you feeling sick to your stomach?"

I swallowed hard. Yeah. That about covered it. I nodded.

Mello sighed and kissed my forehead gently. "M'kay, well, let's get you to bed then, hmm?" He got up and pulled me, by the wrist, to my feet and led me back to his room.

I sat down on the bed and, with my elbows on my knees, let my head fall into my hands.

"Matt…" Mello shut the door and came over and sat down next to me, beginning to rub my back gently. "You really don't feel well, do you?"

I bit my lip to keep back a sob. It hurt to know that every second I kept quiet, I was betraying him. And there he was, worrying about me.

"Matt," he said again, before leaning over and kissing me on the top of my head. "I'm sorry you feel so bad."

I lost what little control I had right then and started sobbing.

"Matt!" Mello cried, concern in his voice. "Why're you crying? Mattie? Mattie!" He squeezed my shoulder gently. When he tried to hug me, though, I pulled away from him.

"Mattie?"

Great. Now he just sounded hurt. That just made me feel worse.

"What's wrong? Really, I'm worried about you," he said.

"You shouldn't be," I replied through my tears.

"What! Why shouldn't I worry about my Mattie?"

"Because I'm not worth it."

"Matt, what the hell are you saying?" he cried angrily. "Of course you're worth it."

"No. I'm not. I'm not worth your concern if I'd so easily betray you," I insisted.

"Betray me? What're you-"

"I fucked Near a few weeks ago," I whimpered. I cringed, expecting Mello to slap me, to punch me, kick me, yell at me, or cuss me out. But he did none of that.

Instead, he looked away in embarrassment and said quietly, "Since we're confessing, can I say something?" He waited, and when I didn't answer he went on. "I've been fucking Near for the past month and a half."

I froze in shock. But Mello said he loved me, and only _me_. Why…why would he… I couldn't take it anymore and ran from the room, Mello's voice calling my name. Halfway down the hall, I put my hand against the wall, trying to catch my breath. Why? Why! I felt the bile rising in my throat and I vomited. "Shit," I groaned, wiping my mouth on the back of my hand. This day just kept getting better and-

"Oh, God, Matt!"

Fuck. This was the last thing I wanted to deal with right now. I took off before Linda could say another word.

* * *

Why was I so stupid? "Fuck!" I cursed, punching the wall. I _knew_ this was going to happen.

"Mello."

I whirled around. Shit. I hadn't even heard him come in.

"Mello," Near repeated.

" _You_. It's your fault!" I screamed, slamming him back against the door. "You and your damn mind games have ruined my fucking life. You know that, right?"

"Mello," he said, his voice emotionlessly quiet. He touched my cheek with his fingertips. "It's going to be alright."  
I broke down then, my hands placed on the door on either side of his head. I felt his arms wrap around my waist and I let my forehead rest on his shoulder. I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes and I bit my lip, trying to keep from crying. "Near, I…"

"It'll be alright."

##############################################################################

A few days later in class, the teacher was assigning us groups to work on a paper. Normally, it was partners but today, apparently, they wanted groups of three. I glanced at Matt sadly and saw he had his knees pulled up against his chest and was looking at the wall. I saw what I didn't want to see. He looked so…lost and broken. I hated myself for doing that to him, but I couldn't exactly make it better then, could I?

Near had his arms around my neck and his chin resting on my shoulder.

I really hated myself.

"Alright, now. Mello, you will be working with Near and Matt."

I saw Matt freeze in shock before snatching up his things and running out the door.

"O-kay," the teacher went on, staring at the rest of the room. "I suppose it'll just be the two of you then, Mello. Since Mr. Jeevas does not appear to approve of my decision."

Great. Just great. Matt had to really hate me now.

The teacher continued, but I really could care less at the moment. Matt meant the world to me. He was the only thing on this earth I'd ever wanted. And now…

"So, Mello, what are we going to do our report on?"

Have I ever mentioned how much I despise that cool, emotionless voice of his? It made me want to strangle him and tear him to shreds. "How about Medieval torture methods?"

"Hmm, sounds okay, but perhaps we should broaden it a bit."

"Okay. How about torture methods in general?" _And while we're at it, I can come up with the most gruesome way to pay you back for what you've done to Matt and I._

"Fine."

A couple hours later, we were in the library doing our research for the paper. Or, I should say, _Near_ was doing the research for the paper. _I_ , on the other hand, was doing research for revenge. The bastard was gonna pay for what he did to us…

* * *

I hated my life and everyone in it. I watched, with an odd fascination, as the blood slipped down my arm and dripped onto the floor, splashing on the tile. It was the last bit of control I had. I'd lost the last of my sanity when Mello said that. I wanted to just die.

I giggled a little as I let the blade bite into my skin. In a weird way, this made me feel just a bit better. It was a little stronger than the emotional pain that laced through my heart like a white-hot iron.

This pain was temporary.

I put the razor blade away in my bag and stumbled to my feet. I thought about staunching the blood flow with some paper towels, but another boy came in just as I got to the sinks and I changed my mind. No one needed to know, because no one could help me. No one could take the pain away except one person…

I pushed the door open and stumbled a few steps down the hall. Before I knew it, the floor was rushing towards me and the world went black.

When I came to, there were bandages around my wrists and I was laid up in a bed in the infirmary. Something nagged at the edge of my consciousness, though. There…there was no pain. In fact, it was…numb. Most of my body was numb. On any other day, any other time, I might have tolerated this numbness. Hell, I may have even welcomed it at one point. But now, it was different. That pain had blocked a pain that couldn't be numbed, and now, that searing pain in my heart won't leave me alone…

* * *

Matt screamed and ripped the bandages from his arms before tangling his fingers in his hair, rocking back and forth, sobbing hysterically.


	2. Chapter 2

When I heard that Matt was in the infirmary, my first instinct was to run to be by his side, but I couldn't. Not with my albino shadow at least.

We had our books laid out on the table and both Near and I were taking notes from a few books. I really wanted to go see Matt, but how would I sneak away from Near? Unless…of course.

"Hey, Near?" I said, looking up at him.

"Hmm?"

"I'm going to go get a book from the shelves; I'll be back soon, okay?" I answered.

"Fine," he answered simply, continuing to write.

I got up and fought to keep my composure until I got to the end of the aisle and then took off. I sprinted out of the library, down a floor, turned down the hall and into the infirmary. Nurse Jade stopped me at the door.

"Can I help you, Mello, dear?" she asked.

"I need to see Matt," I said.

"I'm afraid I can't allow that, dear," she said sadly.

"Why not?" I said in frustration.

"Because Matt has been hysterical almost since he was brought in and has just recently calmed down enough to be left alone," she explained gently.

"Please," I insisted. "I really, really need to see him." When she still looked doubtful, I promised, "If he starts to get hysterical, I'll leave."

Nurse Jade sighed. "Very well." She stepped aside and went into her office.

I walked into the main hall of the infirmary and made my way past the empty beds down to Matt's; his was the only occupied bed in the main hall. I pulled a chair near his bedside and sat down. "Hey, Matt," I said quietly.

Matt was curled on his side under the sheets, staring at the wall. He didn't answer.

"I'm really sorry I hurt you, Matt," I went on in that same quiet tone. "I really didn't mean to, honest."

"'Didn't…mean…to'?" he repeated slowly. "Didn't mean to?"

"Yeah, I'm s-" I started, only to be cut off by his next outburst.

"Yeah, I know!" he snapped, sitting up angrily. "You're _sorry_. You _didn't mean to_. Well, you know what?"

I cringed. I knew what was coming.

" _I_ didn't mean to, either! I just don't care any more. Just leave me alone," he went on.

"Matt, I-"

"Just leave me the fuck alone!" he screamed, clutching his head as he started to sob, rocking back and forth. "Just leave me alone!"

I got up and started to leave. I knew I deserved it, but it still hurt. "I love you, Mail," I said as I turned to leave. "I always will… Even if you don't…" I left, knowing if I stayed I'd only make it worse.

* * *

I began to calm down after Mello left and I lay there, tangled in the sheets, hugging my arms around myself. _Even if you don't…_ The tears continued sliding down my cheeks as I whispered to the empty room, "But I still love you…"

* * *

I felt like crap as I set the book down on the table next to Near. I just wanted to be alone. "Near, I think I'm going to go to my room," I said.

"Why? We have a paper to do," Near informed me bluntly.

"Yeah, yeah. I know. I just… I really don't feel too well, Near, and I think it would more than likely be counterproductive to our paper if I kept trying to work," I explained.

"Yes," Near said slowly. "That more than likely would be counterproductive."

I took that as a release and left.

Back in my room, I dumped my books on my desk and collapsed face-first on my bed.

Crap was an understatement. I felt like shit right then.

Hours later, moonlight filtering through my window woke me up; apparently I'd fallen asleep in that time.

I sat up and propped myself up on my elbows in my windowsill and glanced out over the grounds. I looked up at the moon and sighed. The moon…it reminded me of Matt. His smiling face; that happy, content smile he had when he felt important and loved. He'd smiled that smile the night I asked him to be with me, just before he'd said yes, and on the night we gave ourselves to each other. And so many more times, just by being with me.

I felt the tears welling up in my eyes and I buried my face against my arms, sobbing in the moonlight.

* * *

After a few weeks, Nurse Jade allowed me to do more than just lay around all day. She'd brought me some clothes so that I could shower every night, and my arms were healing up fairly well. They were scarring, but the scars were nothing compared to the state my heart and mind were in. Through it all, all the pain, self-injury, and heartache, I couldn't bring myself to hate Mello. I still loved him, and I wanted him back badly.

"Matt. Lunch time," Nurse Jade said, setting the tray on the bedside table.

"I'm not hungry," I mumbled, rolling over to face the wall.

She sighed. "Will you eat later?"

I didn't answer and she walked off. I might pick at it, but I wouldn't eat all of it. She knew my lack of appetite hadn't faded in the time I'd been here, but she never stopped trying.

I sat up and scanned over what she'd brought. Tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich cut in half diagonally.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed and got up. I picked up half of the sandwich and walked over to the window. Looking out, I took a bite of the sandwich as I propped myself up on one elbow.

Some of the younger children were playing tag on the hill and a few boys were having a soccer match near the forest.

I sighed heavily and took another bite of the sandwich. I missed when Mello and I were together during our free time.

"Hey," a quiet voice said behind me.

I whirled around.

* * *

"Mello," he breathed, and I almost melted at the sound of his voice.

I gave him a small, half smile as I stood there awkwardly. "It's good to see she's letting you move around," I said, breaking the silence.

He shrugged, looking away. He moved away from the window to sit back down on the bed, pulling one foot up near him on the sheet and letting his other leg dangle over the side of the bed. "It's not like I can go to any classes. She won't even let me play any games."

I shook my head in amusement. Even when he was given a break from classes, Matt was still more worried about his games.

"Well, don't just stand there," he mumbled.

Taking the hint/invitation, or whatever he meant by the statement, I sat down on the side of the bed. "Matt, I-"

"I know you're sorry," he said quietly. "I know, okay? Just…" He sighed and motioned toward the tray of food on the bedside table.

I knew what he was offering and I shook my head. "Mm-mm. You eat it."

"'I'm not very hungry lately…" He set the half-eaten sandwich down on the tray and said, "Mello, I…" He trailed off as he bit his lip, debating something. Before I knew what was happening, he'd thrown his arms around my neck and buried his face against my shoulder.

"I know you probably hate me now," I said softly.

"No," he insisted, pulling back so he could look at me. "I could never hate you. I… I still love you, Mello," he whispered softly.

I could tell by the emotions shimmering in his eyes that he was telling the truth. I stopped thinking and leaned forward, pressing my lips against his as I wrapped my arms around his waist, pulling him closer.

He whimpered softly into the kiss and his arms tightened around my neck slightly.

Now this, this felt right. Feeling him pulling against me and hungrily kissing me, this was as much heaven as anyone could hope to get on earth.

We separated after a few minutes, breathing hard and I rested my forehead against Matt's and sighed.

* * *

"God, I love you," he whispered.

I smiled. "Love you too, Mello," I whispered back.

He chuckled and lay back on the bed, pulling me on top of him, he touched my wrist gently and then glanced up at me tentatively.

I nodded, knowing what he was trying to ask.

He pushed the sleeve of my jacket up gently. "God, Mattie, I'm sorry," he said quietly, sounding as if he were struggling not to cry.

"It's okay, Mel," I said. "I'm fine as long as I'm with you."

He shook his head, almost as if he didn't believe me, but pressed a gentle kiss to the scars, old and new, that sent a shiver of pleasure down my spine.

"Mattie," he whispered.

"Hmm?"

"Does this feel good?" he asked quietly as he ran a finger lightly down my forearm.

I moaned softly. "Uh-huh…"

"Does it make up for what I've done…?"

"Mel…" He'd dropped his hand from my wrist, so I propped myself up on my hands and kissed him gently. When I pulled back, I stayed so that our faces were close. "I love you; you don't have to make up for anything."

 


	3. Chapter 3

I didn't want to cry, but him saying that… I sat up and pulled him tight against my chest.

He squeaked quietly in shock at first, but then let out a breath and wound his arms around my waist.

We sat like that for the longest time, Matt's cheek pressed against my chest. I missed having him this close, and closer. Near had been the biggest mistake of my life. I finally released him and he looked at me curiously before glancing at the window, where the sun had sunk a little and shadows were stretching further across the floor.

"Oh."

"I don't want to leave, but I have to get to class," I said.

"I know, I know," he said. He nodded towards the door. "Go on. I'll be fine."

"Okay. I'll visit later, alright?"

He nodded and I stood up and started to leave.

"Wait."

"Yeah, what is it?" I asked as I turned around.

"Here." He held one half of the sandwich out to me with his left hand as he held the other in his right hand. He was offering me the whole one.

I shook my head and took a quick bite of the one he'd been eating on. "You need to eat."

He sighed and set the sandwich back down on the tray and sat back down.

"Matt…"  
"Everyone keeps, saying I need to eat…but I'm not really hungry," he said quietly.

"Will you eat for me?" I pushed gently.

After a couple minutes of silence, he said, "…Yeah."

"Come on, then," I said, crawling up beside him as he scooted over a little and I pulled the tray into my lap. I waited as he snuggled up against my side and I dipped the sandwich into the soup and held it out to him.

He leaned forward and took a tentative bite; he lay back as he chewed and swallowed.

"See? Not so bad, is it?"

"Mm-mm."

I worked slowly, trying to make him eat, but not wanting to force him. When he'd managed to eat half the soup, I stopped and asked him, "You want anymore?"

"Mm-mm, I'm full," he mumbled sleepily.

"Okay," I said, moving the tray off of my lap and back onto the bedside table.

He snuggled against my side and sighed softly as he closed his eyes and laid his arm across my stomach. "Love you, Mel," he mumbled as he fell asleep.

I ran my fingers gently through his hair a few times. I really didn't want to leave now, but I had to get to class. I sighed. Why couldn't time just stop right then?

I didn't want to, but I carefully slipped from under Matt's arm and pulled the covers up over him. "Love you, Mattie," I whispered as I kissed his forehead before turning around and leaving.

Nurse Jade stopped me as I went to leave the infirmary. "That took longer than your previous visit," she stated calmly.

Against my will, I flushed a little at the statement. My visit a few weeks ago when he'd first been brought in had only been a few minutes and I'd just spent near the entirety of lunch with him today. "So, um, do you think you can release him soon?" I asked curiously.

"I'm not sure, Mello," she said. "Cutting is often categorized as attempted suicide, as you know, and his cuts were fairly deep."

"But they're healed now," I protested.

"Yes, but we're not sure if he's well enough to be on his own. We can't be sure if he'll try it again."

"Look, I know Matt," I said; in my frustration I was almost pleading with her. I _did_ know Matt. He wasn't suicidal, not in the least. The cutting…that was his way to block out emotional pain. The rawer the pain, the deeper the cut. It might not have seemed like it, but Matt was a bit of a control freak. Cutting was his answer to his life spiraling out of control, his way of regaining control on his life. I learned that when I met him, when I finally got him to trust me enough to let me into his world. My God, that was a mess. But I helped him piece the majority of it back together. I helped him, and I _knew_ him. "Being cooped up in here's not good for him, I can tell you that."

"But he can't be left alone, or he may end up doing it again."

"Then I'll take care of him," I said.

"Well…"

"Oh, come on!" I cried in frustration. "If he needs constant supervision, what are you going to do if someone comes in because they're sick or something? Look." I sighed heavily. I didn't want to do this, but it was for Matt. "The cutting is, well…it's his way of solving, or at least, temporarily solving his problems. It only happens when he can't handle the emotional pain…"

Nurse Jade looked at me sadly. She knew there was more than I was telling her, but thankfully she didn't pry. "Very well," she said after sighing resignedly.

"Thank you so much, Nurse Jade," I said gratefully.

"Yes, yes," she said, waving it off. "Now, didn't you need a pass to your next class?"

"Yes ma'am," I said before telling her the name of my teacher.

When she handed me the pass, I turned around and started to leave.

"Mello."

"Yes ma'am?" I asked, turning around.

"Aren't you currently with Near? How will you take care of Matt?"

"I'll work it out," I promised as I left.

#####################################################################################

After classes finished for the day, I dumped my books in my room and sprinted down to the infirmary.

Nurse Jade glanced up at me and smiled gently. "Punctual as always," she said. She nodded towards the doorway to the main hall. "He's in there; I think he was sleeping the last time I checked on him."

"Thank you," I said as she handed me the release slip, which I pocketed before I headed to Matt's room near the back. Walking in, I crossed over to the bed. I knelt down and shook his shoulder gently. "Matt," I whispered. "Mattie, wake up."

He mumbled sleepily a bit before sitting up, rubbing his eyes and yawning cutely. "Mel…? What's up?"

"Come on and get up and let's get to dinner," I said, standing up and gathering his things. I grabbed a t-shirt and a pair of jeans and tossed them onto the bed. "Get dressed too."

"M'kay," he managed after yawning again. He got dressed and we left.

After we dropped his things off, we went to the dining hall. Luckily, the line was empty by then and I got us two sandwiches and two bottles of chocolate milk from Mellie, the cook.

"It's good to see she let you out," Mellie said, nodding to Matt.

He managed a weak smile before I pulled him away. "Where you want to sit?" I asked. I knew he wouldn't want to be near a lot of people.

He pointed to a window seat on the far side of the room. "There," he said quietly.

"Okay," I said. I held out my hand and he took it after only a moment's hesitation; I lead him across the room. We made ourselves comfortable, leaning back against the wall and simply enjoying each other's company.

Matt was holding his sandwich in his left hand, but he had his right hand resting on his arm near his elbow, gripping it. I knew he was feeling extremely self-conscious and I should have at least brought him a jacket to wear. He was staring out the window, consumed in his own thoughts.

I heard quiet footsteps and pulled my thoughts from Matt to see who had come over.

Near was standing quietly, with his head down, staring at the floor, clutching a doll in his right hand. "Why?" he said quietly.

"What are you talk-" I started before he cut me off.

"You're mine, Mello. Mine! And don't forget that," he said fiercely.

"I was never yours," I snapped angrily, clenching my fists. "I'm Matt's and he's mine!"

"No!" He flung the doll at us angrily. It clattered off of the glass and bounced onto the floor. "You're mine," he said again, before walking off.

"What the fuck was that?" I mumbled to myself before glancing over at Matt.

He was shaking and his fingers were clinching his arm so tightly that his nails were scraping over the skin leaving angry red marks across his arm.

"Matt…" I laid my hand on his wrist gently.

He glanced up at me and, just from the slightly crazed look in his eyes, that strained, almost pained look, I could tell that he was near a breakdown.

"Let's go, okay?" I whispered, tugging his wrist gently. "Let's get out of here."

He nodded numbly and got up to follow me.


	4. Chapter 4

Getting him away from people helped more than I thought it would. I pulled him a ways down the hall and turned a corner to an abandoned wing. I leaned back against the wall.

Matt wrapped his arms tightly around my waist and clung to me fiercely.

I sighed and looped my arms around him. "It's okay," I murmured against his hair. "I'm here with you."

We stayed like that for the longest time and listened to the sounds of the orphans going to their rooms and the common room.

The moon shone through a nearby window, spreading shadows across the floor.

Matt loosened his grip on my waist and wrapped his arms around my neck instead. He sighed softly and I felt his breath against my neck.

"Matt," I said softly. "You want to go to bed?"

"Yeah," he murmured.

"Well, I'll walk with you to your room," I went on.

"Mm-mm," he mumbled. "I wanna go to your room…"

"Okay," I said, kissing his forehead gently. "Whatever you want, Mattie…"

* * *

He led me back to his room and shut the door behind us, before pulling me with him onto his bed and wrapping his arms around me gently.

I sighed. "Mel…"

"Shh." He placed a finger on my lips, shushing me. "Don't worry about it."

"But-"

"Dammit all," he grumbled. He leaned forward and kissed me on the lips. "Don't worry about it, Mail," he whispered, gently running his thumb along my cheekbone. "I'll handle it."

"Mihael, it's my fault," I mumbled in protest. "I'm the reason he's mad."

"Oh, Mail," he sighed, resting his forehead against my own and squeezing me gently to himself. "Why must you always blame yourself?"

Instead of answering, I wiggled around just enough so that I could curl against his chest. We both knew the answer to that question.

"Mail…I love you, you know that, right?" he sighed.

"Mm-hmm, I love you too, Mihael," I mumbled against his chest.

He sighed heavily and stroked my hair comfortingly. He knew I wasn't going to answer; I always blamed myself. That trait had been ingrained in me long before I ever even came to Wammy's. I shifted just enough so that I could look up at Mello.

He touched my cheek gently with his fingertips. "I love you, Mail," he said quietly. "More than you'll ever know. So don't blame yourself, 'cuz it's not your fault. It never was…" He kissed me and I could feel him trembling. "Please don't…" he whispered weakly.

"Okay," I said softly, looping my arms around his neck.

"Thank you," he said quietly, seemingly a little brighter. "I'll make it better for you, and for us."

"For you, too," I urged.

"For me, too," he agreed.

I smiled. "Good."

* * *

When the sun rose the next morning, I woke up first and noticed Matt was still asleep. He was cute like that. His hair was slightly mussed from sleep, but he still wore that perfect smile, even in sleep. God, I loved that smile. He blinked slowly as he woke up.

"Hey," I said quietly.

"Hey," he answered sleepily. He yawned and rubbed his eyes tiredly. "I don' wanna get up Mels," he mumbled.

"I know," I said. I sat up and pulled him up, only to have him try to curl back up. "But you have to get up."

"Don' wanna get up," he said, his voice muffled by the covers he pulled over his head.

"Matt…" I hated when he was stubborn like that. I pulled the sheets away, grabbed him under the arms and hauled him onto his feet, only to have myself be a total klutz and trip over my own feet to pull us both onto the floor. "You've got to get up," I insisted.

"But, Mel…" he whined. "I'm not trying to be stubborn; I just don't feel too well today."

"Oh." Feeling bad for hauling him around like that, I helped him back into bed where he snuggled up against my chest. "Sorry, Matt," I apologized.

"S'okay," he mumbled. "It's nothing bad, my head just hurts a little."

"Oh, okay," I said. I kissed the top of his head. "You want to go get some aspirin from Nurse Jade?"

"Uh-huh," he mumbled, nodding and sitting up.

"Okay, come on."

I took his hand and led him to Nurse Jade's office.

"Well, hello, boys, you're up early," Nurse Jade said as we walked in. "Or, did you have a late night?" she hinted.

Matt flushed in embarrassment.

I felt my own cheeks heat up slightly as well. I hadn't even thought about making love with Matt again yet. I didn't think Matt was ready, but I really wasn't sure if I was either, though. "No, Matt just needs some aspirin because his head hurts," I said awkwardly.

"Alright, if you say so," she mused, pulling the keys out of her desk drawer and going over to get the aspirin.

I didn't even realize I'd been clenching my fists until Matt whined softly and set his head on my shoulder. Why did everyone assume I intended to rape him the second I got him alone? Honestly, what did they think I was, a fucking heartless bastard?

Nurse Jade tossed the aspirin bottle at me, which I pocketed, and then tossed me a bottle of water. "Just give him two capsules with some water now, and if he needs some later, use the same dose. And just keep the rest in case you need some later," she said.

I nodded and said, "Thanks, Nurse Jade." Without waiting for a response, and because I knew one wouldn't come, seeing as she had already gone into the infirmary's main hall, I turned to Matt and said, "Come on," before leaving.

* * *

Three hours later, my migraine had come back, worse than ever, and I was stuck in my history class with no Mello and no aspirin. I pinched the bridge of my nose and tried to will away the throbbing pain in my skull, to no avail.

The teacher was prattling on about WWII and how badly it had affected England.

Blah, blah, blah.

My head throbbed a little more as the teacher slapped his pointer against the chalkboard, pointing to some debt the air force alone caused.

If I'd have known we were going to learn about the war today, I would have skipped and found Mello. I already knew about the parts of the war this son of a bitch was talking about. The one big thing I remembered about my dad from before he left was that he was a big war buff. When I had been really little, he'd sit me on his knee and tell me stories about the war that his dad and granddad had told him. I loved it. But then, he left, and what had been a happy childhood went to hell in a hand basket that had the rope cut while it was still on earth.


	5. Chapter 5

But maybe I should start at the beginning. See, it wasn't all bad when Dad was around. Sometimes, even before the day he left, I felt like my mother hated me, like she didn't think I should have existed. She never showed it until he left though.

It was February 2nd, the day after my second birthday; I remember it as clearly as if it were yesterday though. I woke up, and noticed the house was quiet, too quiet. I got up and went to the living room, expecting Dad to be in his recliner, reading the newspaper like he always was. But he wasn't. Curious as to where he could be I went to their room. I saw my mother sitting on the side of their bed, smoking a cigarette. They usually didn't smoke around me, so I immediately started coughing when I smelled it, which caught her attention instantly.

Her eyes shifted to look at me. "It's your fault, you know," she said emotionlessly.

"My…fault?" I repeated in confusion.

"It's your fault he left," she went on. "He would have stayed with me if you'd never been born."

"It's my fault," I said, agreeing with her, hoping it would make her happy enough.

It didn't.

She scowled, smashing her cigarette against the bedpost before smacking me hard across the face. "You should have never been born, you useless little sonuva bitch!" she snapped.

I hit the floor hard, trying not to cry. She'd only beaten me once before Dad left, and when I'd cried, she'd just beaten me more.

Now, Dad wasn't here to protect me.

She snatched me up by the front of my shirt. "You're just a useless little shit," she spat, before throwing me to the floor again and kicking me down the hall. "Cook me breakfast. It better be ready in twenty minutes," she snapped, before slamming the door.

I whimpered, clutching my head from where it had slammed against the wall. "Daddy, why'd you leave?" I whispered quietly. "Did you stop loving me?" I managed to crawl painfully to my feet and stumbled to the kitchen. I didn't want to get beat anymore.

Life went on like that for two years straight. Every day, I was expected to get up and cook and clean. If I didn't do it, I got beat. If I did do it, I got beat, but I got beat less, so it was little incentive. Every night, she'd go out and party and then bring back some random guy and I'd have to put up with their 'love making' until they passed out. God, it made me sick.

When she was gone though, I had the house to myself and I immersed myself in a world outside the reality I lived in. Zelda, Link, Ganondorf, Peach, Mario, and Bowser helped me forget, if only for a few hours. But, I couldn't escape her the rest of the time. I wore long sleeves and jeans, even in the summer, because I knew if someone asked about the bruises, she'd beat me even more, whether I lied or told the truth made no difference. I was allowed outside, but only for chores, which was rare.

Because I never got to play with the other neighborhood kids, or got to play at all, aside from sneaking the occasional video game at night, I never really found out that what she was doing to me was illegal. True, her sleeping with the random male sluts she brought home couldn't legally be stopped, but that I could deal with. There were some days though, when she'd beat me so badly that I couldn't walk for almost a week. Well, I should correct myself. I _could_ walk, it was just excruciating to do so.

The day after my third birthday, I was cleaning the bathroom and, not realizing it was on the floor, accidentally stepped on her razor. Normally, I would have just picked it up and kept on cleaning, but something stopped me. Every day, my heart ached with a pain I could never really fully explain, but this, this pain in my foot…somehow, it pushed the heartache away just a little. Biting my lip,(I always did that when I couldn't decide what to do) I looked at the razor and the drops of blood on the tile. _What if…?_ I pocketed the razor and put a new one in the shower. Not that she would notice, really. She'd probably just think I was trying to think ahead, and beat me for doing something she didn't tell me to. I was supposed to do only what she told me to and if I did any more than that, she beat me. Of course, she always beat me at least once in a day, so it really made no difference.

Sure enough, when she went to take a shower that night when she got up, she found the new razor.

I was in the kitchen, cooking, when I heard her scream.

She stormed into the room and snatched me away from the stove and flung me to the floor. "What do you call this, you little bastard?" she snarled, waving the razor in my face. She was dripping water all over the floor. Great, more for me to do.

"I gave you a new razor, Mother," I said quietly, biting my lip(I also did it when I was scared).

"Why? I didn't ask for it, you little bitch. What have I told you about doing more than what I tell you to?"

"Not to." My voice was quieter then, but I knew she heard it. She always did. I could already taste the blood from my lip.

"So why did you do it?" She practically screamed the words and, with how shrill she got, I was surprised my bladder hadn't already turned traitor on me. I really didn't need that to happen because she would only beat me more.

"I'm sorry, Mother," I managed weakly. "I was only trying to be helpful."

"Helpful? HELPFUL?" she screamed.

I nodded, frightened. I knew what was coming, but I was never prepared for it.

She pulled back and slapped me across the room. "What the FUCK have I told you about being helpful? If you want to be helpful, then do what I say, you little whore. Otherwise, suck it up. Or, you could be even more helpful," she mused, "if you were never born!" She kicked me hard in the stomach and I hit the wall with a groan.

I coughed once and then threw up. I closed my eyes tightly, dreading the impact…but it never came. Instead, when I opened my eyes, she was no longer even in the room.

"You're not worth my time," she said bitterly as she walked past me again to leave. "You weren't even worth bringing home."

Somehow, those words hurt more than any punch or kick ever had.

An hour or two after she had left, I climbed to my feet and cleaned up the mess. After that, I curled up on the couch, with my knees pulled tight against my chest. I felt my throat tightening, but I knew no tears would come. Even my own body wouldn't shed a tear for my circumstances. My heart felt as if it were about to explode.

_Or, you could be more helpful if you were never born!_

_You weren't even worth bringing home._

Her harsh , biting words echoed through my head as the clock over the mantle ticked. Running in a circle, they were driving me insane. I gripped my hair near the roots, it was too much. Everything she'd told me since Dad left echoed in my head.

_It's your fault._

_He would have stayed with me if you'd never been born._

_You should have never been born, you useless little sonuva bitch!_

_You're just a useless little shit!_

I screamed. It was too much. Too much! I flung myself to the floor and scrambled across the living room to my toy box. I flung the lid off to the side where it banged against the wall and I dug through my things, chucking things out of the way. I'd clean it up later. Finally, I found the razor and I sprinted to the kitchen. I took the rolling pin that was on the counter and smashed the plastic on the razor, taking the blades and sweeping the broken plastic into the trash.

I stood there, holding the one of the blades in my left hand, biting my lip. Should I really go through with it? But I remembered, the brief numbing the accidental cut had given me. What if an intentional one was even better? I slid the blade across my skin, just barely breaking the surface and nicking the vein.

I sighed as relief washed over me as the blood trickled down my wrist. Yes, video games were great, but they didn't actually numb the pain as well as a blade did.

For the next year, that became my new escape. I already wore long sleeves, so I didn't have to worry about hiding the marks from her. And if she ever found them, she'd no doubt assume that she'd inflicted them (though, indirectly, she did) and beat me some more.

I didn't cut often, only when she abused me worse than usual, or she added a new insult to the already kilometre-long list she had. Even still, by my fourth birthday, my forearms were littered with pale scars. If Dad were around, he would have probably been concerned about my arms, but he wasn't, so it didn't matter.

I bit my lip hard enough to draw blood as I pushed my goggles up onto my head so I could see properly, or at least, without an orange tint covering everything. The house had to be perfect today, because tonight, she was bringing home a special guest. She needed the "good" china out, flowers in the vase on the center of the table(with ice water, of course, because they simply could _not_ be wilted when he got here), and there had to be twelve, not eleven or thirteen because they were odd numbers and he couldn't stand odd numbers, and they had to all be different kinds of flowers. Just great. That alone took an hour out of my day because I had to hike down into the valley behind the house.

Which was were I was then. There was only one problem. ALL THE FLOWERS WERE THE FUCKIN' SAME! They were all frickin' daisies! Great, just great. I thought maybe it was just my goggles fucking with my brain, but no. All these flowers were daisies. Wonderful. That meant it'd be another couple hours gone, because I'd have to hike the three kilometeres down to Eping Forest. Fuck. I absolutely _hated_ living in High Beach.

I sighed. There was no fighting it. I had to have the flowers, or she'd beat me worse than usual. She'd specifically said that I had to have _everything_ on the list. Sadistic fucking bitch.

I nearly collapsed when I reached the forest. The only exercise I'd gotten all my life was cleaning. It wasn't that I was overweight, I only weighed about thirteen kilograms; I just didn't have much endurance. I might have had more if I stood anything to gain from running from mother but that wasn't possible. Still struggling to catch my breath, I walked a little into the forest on an only vaguely familiar path that Dad had taken me on when he was still around.

It wasn't long before I found a small clearing full of about a million different kinds of flowers. Yes! Score 1 for me. I picked twelve and started my long hike home.

I set out the china, put the ice water and flowers in the vase and put it in the center of the table. I was cleaning her red dress while cooking the food on the stove when it happened. It was about six in the afternoon if I remembered correctly. I was standing on top of the washing machine trying to get to the detergent I was supposed to use on her dress when I smelled something burning. I jumped down off of the machine and ran into the kitchen.

The Yorkshire pudding had caught on fire in the time I left the room.

I was scared. What was I going to do?

I tried to put the fire out, but only succeeded in making it bigger. I was getting ready to wake Mother up and admit that I failed at such a simple task, but something stopped me.

She'd smell it eventually; we didn't have smoke alarms, because the noise annoyed her. But…

I bit my lip. I really was abusing it today.

Something kept telling me to run; the same thing that told me something was wrong the day Dad left. I stopped thinking and bolted.

I ended up at the police station in Loughton three hours later.

The only report was that a four-year old boy showed up on the 23rd of March at 9:00 p.m. wearing a long-sleeved striped shirt, a torn pair of jeans, and no shoes or socks, mumbling something about a fire.

They searched out the area and found out that a house on the outskirts of High Beach had burned down recently, no earlier than around six in the evening.

The exact time I ran like a dog out of hell with a burning coat.


	6. Chapter 6

_Wait. Did I just compare myself to a dog? Fuck._ Ah, well.

Shit. My migraine hadn't left in-I pushed my sleeve up to glance at the watch on my right wrist-in an hour and half. Fuck. There were still about twenty minutes left in class and my head felt as if it were about to explode. Rather like how my heart felt when I first came to Wammy's…

I stood up abruptly, clutching my head as the blood pounded through it, knocking my chair over as I bolted from the room. I ran down the hall, past about half of the classrooms, before I collapsed against the wall, panting. I really needed some aspirin, but Mello had the bottle.

"Dammit!" I growled clutching my head. Fuck aspirin, I needed _Mello_.

"Matt?" a voice said tentatively by my side.

Almost immediately, I recognized it as Linda's.

"Go away," I mumbled, trying to ignore the pounding in my head.

"Matt…" She trailed off a few seconds before she said gently, "You want me to get Mello?"

I wanted to tell her to fuck off, that I didn't need anything from her, but…

"Yeah…" I managed weakly.

* * *

I twirled a pencil around in my fingers in boredom as I rested my cheek against my palm, elbow on the desk. We were supposed to write a three-page essay on how wars have affected England's literature and I'd finished within the first hour; now, I had twenty minutes to fuck around with.

A knock on the door caught everyone's attention; a few kids who were still writing looked up.

The door opened tentatively and Linda stepped into the classroom.

"What is it you need, Ms. Linda?" Mrs. Roland asked.

"Well, Mrs. Roland," Linda said politely. "I came to get Mello."

Mello? My head shot up at the mention of my name.

"Why ever do you need him?" asked Mrs. Roland, voicing my own question.

Linda's next words sent a cold chill through me. "It's Matt."

I shot out of my desk only to have the chair clatter to the floor behind me loudly. I snatched Linda's wrist and bolted down the hall, dragging her with me.

When she pulled out of my grip and fell into step with me, I barked, "Where is he?"

"Not far from our history class," she answered.

I nodded and took off, forcing her to struggle to keep up.

* * *

By the time I heard returning footsteps, I had sunk to the floor, my knees pulled tight against my chest, and the tears were streaming down my cheeks.

"Matt!"

I heard the panic and concern in Mello's voice as he dropped down beside me, pulling me against his chest and kissing the top of my head. As he held me to him, he dug in his pocket with his free hand and, in that way that was uniquely Mello, opened it one-handedly. "Here," he offered softly.

I held out my hand and he dumped two capsules onto my palm before he closed the bottle and shoved it back into his pocket. I dry-swallowed the capsules and leaned into him.

He pulled me tighter against his chest and stroked my hair. "Thank God," he whispered weakly. "I'm glad you're okay."

* * *

"It may be more than a migraine," Linda said quietly. She sat down, leaning back against the wall across from where Matt and I were sitting.

I glanced up at her, before glancing back down at Matt. She was right, but more right than she knew.

Matt whimpered softly as his arms slipped around my waist and he squeezed me tightly.

He was close to a nervous breakdown, but from what?

"Linda," I said, and she jumped slightly at my voice. "What were you learning about today?"

She looked at me curiously a bit before answering, "How the war affected England. Why?"

War? God, that's why Matt was like that, that's why his headache had gotten worse. Thinking about the war must've reminded him of his dad and then…his mother.

"Fuck," I growled, causing Linda to jump again. I stood up, pulling Matt up with me gently. "It's alright, it's alright," I mumbled softly to him.

All I got in response was a soft whine.

I sighed and bid Linda farewell before taking Matt's hand and guiding him to his room.

I pulled him down onto the bed with me (and get your perverted minds out of the fucking gutter, there was nothing sexual about it; it was only to comfort him), hating myself for not being able to take all of his pain away. I'd helped him piece his sanity back together when we were little, but I knew the entire time it was still frayed at the edges and slowly, oh so very slowly it was maddening to _me_ , unraveling once more. I hated seeing him like that; I hated everything about it and everything that caused it. I hated his dad for leaving him with that cruel, heartless, sadistic fucking bitch. I hated said bitch. I hated the boys that had tormented him when he'd come to Wammy's. Most of all though, I hated myself. I hated myself because I couldn't help him, because I couldn't take away his pain. God, if I could just do that…

Fuck. Just thinking about those boys made me want to murder them. I wanted them to go through the hell they forced Matt through. I wanted them to deal with the pain and anguish of being totally alone. I wanted them to go through what Matt went through every day. I wanted them to fight that same mental fight Matt fought internally every day, just to keep on living. The fight I couldn't help him with. The one he had to fight on his own.

It wasn't fair; it wasn't fucking fair! What had Matt done to deserve any of the pain? Nothing. That was what he'd done. Matt didn't deserve the pain of being left by his father when he was only two years old. He didn't deserve to be left with a sadistic bitch for two years, being beaten and forced to be her slave. He didn't deserve the torment he'd gone through before I "saved" him. He didn't deserve any of it…


	7. Chapter 7

Those boys, oh bloody hell, those boys made me wish sometimes that Hell didn't exist because I would feel no amount of guilt if I murdered them in the most brutal way possible and then tore their corpses to shreds and burned the remains. Far more than I had _ever_ wanted to do to Near. Far more.

I would never have known, though, if I hadn't come into the library after classes a few days after I'd come to Wammy's and done something about the boy who was sitting in the corner of the library all alone.

"Hey," I said.

His head shot up so quickly that it cracked against the wall behind him. "Crap!" he hissed, clutching his head. He glared angrily in my direction.

"Sorry," I said, and I meant it. I sat down a little ways away from him. "So, what's up?"

He looked at me for a few minutes, the anger at injuring himself slowly fading to confusion before it shifted to disbelief. He shook his head, getting up and walking away.

Most people, at best, humored me with an answer. But that boy… I frowned. For someone to…to just walk away, I… That worried me. Even when someone was having a bad day, they'd still say something back. That small snatch of his voice, though, that scared me. It was… it sounded hollow and pained. Not something a little child should sound like, even an orphan.

Now, I knew different people dealt with pain and grief differently. Like me. I was loud and obnoxious. That boy though… I needed to talk to Linda.

Linda was a little bit my younger, but she was still a year one like myself. She was the local stop for gossip for the orphans our age. Around this time, she was usually in the common room with her friends, so that's where I went.

When I made my way into the common room, I spotted her in one of the window seats talking to one of her friends. Resa, I think her name was.

"Hey Mello!" Linda said cheerfully, grinning happily as I walked up.

Her friend bid a quick farewell and slipped off.

"Sit, sit," Linda urged, patting the spot her friend had vacated recently. When I sat down tentatively, she practically squealed and said, "I know you came to ask something! What? What?"

"I wanted to know about that boy," I said quietly. Before she could cut me off, I said, "The one that seems all alone."

"Oh. That's Matt," she said quietly, all excitement gone from her voice and it seemed… sad almost.

"What happened?" I asked.

She looked at me sadly. "He's had it bad, Mello. You know how there are single rooms now?"

I nodded. I had a single room because I got into a fight with a kid within five minutes of walking in the doors. I won of course, but I was too "violent" to be roomed with anyone. Stupid jerk shouldn't have called me a girl though.

"Well, they didn't used to be that way." I must have looked confused because she said, "There used to only be bunk and double rooms. A lot of times, when a new kid would come, Roger would pull one of the kids who'd been here a while and stick the two together in a double room, to help the newcomer get used to the environment. Problem was, when Matt came, there were no double rooms free."

"So, Roger stuck him in a bunk room, didn't he?" I asked. I didn't like this kid's story.

"Yeah," Linda said sadly. "Things seemed fine at first, but then…" She trailed off and glanced out the window. When she spoke again, her voice was distant, almost as if she was lost in her own memories. "It took a year for Roger to figure out that the boys in Matt's dorm were bullying him. Most times, he could escape them. But he couldn't escape those in his bunk and they knew it. Oh, they knew it, alright. They beat him the worst. It wasn't until they beat him up so badly that he ended up in the hospital wing for a week that Roger finally did something. He initiated the single rooms for special children. Not because they were top of the school, but because they were different and needed different rooming. Kids like Matt; kids who were natural loners, these kids got picked to have a chance to get a single room. Matt was given the first, though. Roger assumed that it would prevent the bullying. And it did…for a while. That was a year ago."

"So, what happened?" I asked quietly, leaning forward a little in anticipation.

Linda turned to me, a sad smile on her face. "The beatings got worse. When Matt would try to hide, they'd find him and beat him even more. I was the one that took him to the infirmary the last time. He's been excused from classes this week, but that will only make the torment worse," she whispered.

"They're still-" I couldn't even finish I was so infuriated.

"Yeah," answered Linda. "But that's not all that's happened to him. Apparently, his house burned down when he was four."

I shook my head when she went to tell me more. If I heard anymore, I'd hear it straight from his own mouth. "Thanks," I mumbled, getting up.

"Right."

I went back to my room, completely foregoing dinner. I wasn't really hungry; I wanted to talk to Matt, though. I lay down on my bed and looked up at the ceiling. _God, he must be so alone_ , I thought. _And that pain's got to build over time…_ I knew my pain was bad, but I hadn't been alone as long as he had. Even Linda hadn't helped. She was the type of person that you don't really hate, but you don't really like either. I felt like I had to help him. I rolled over onto my side and drifted to sleep.

It took me almost to months of coaxing before he finally talked to me. We were sitting in the library, studying, when he spoke.

"Why are you so nice to me?" he asked quietly. "You're not to anyone else."

"Well, I guess it's because you're different," I answered. "In a good way, of course. And you're pretty smart. But, also because you look like you could use a friend."

He looked at me oddly for a moment before shaking his head. "You're different, too," he said after a few minutes of silence. "I mean, it's not bad. It's just…" The right side of his mouth pulled up in a wry half smile. "Most people are just meh, but you're different. You have a personality; fiery, loud and obnoxious, but still kind of cool."

I decided to play 20 Questions™ as we packed our books and papers up and left. "So, how old are you?"

"Six."

"Cool. So am I. When's your birthday?"

"February 1st. When's yours?"

"December 13th. Guess we're five weeks apart. So, anything you like?"

"I like playing video games," he said. "What about you?"

"Hmm, well, I'm always eating chocolate, does that count?"

A weird little giggle escaped Matt's lips and he immediately froze, clapping a hand over his mouth, his eyes wide in shock.

I couldn't help but feel bad for him. He looked like he hadn't laughed in forever.

"D-did that come out of me?" he said quietly, dropping his hand.

"Yeah." I looked at him carefully. He couldn't have laughed in a long time to forget what his own laugh sounded like.

"Oh." He looked as if he was deep in thought. "Four years," he said softly.

I glanced at him curiously, not sure if he was speaking to me, or to himself.

"It's been four years since the last time I laughed."

"Oh." Four years? God, I felt bad for him. Four years with out being happy enough to laugh. "I'm sorry." I didn't know what to say.

He smiled, but the smile didn't reach his eyes so it looked hollow. "Don't be," he said. "There just hasn't been a reason to laugh…"

"What happened?"

"A lot of stuff," he said.

I could sense the distant finality in his voice and dropped the subject. "So, where's your room?" I asked as we reached the boys' dorm.

"Second floor all the way at the end near the common room. Room 42," he answered. He didn't say any more but the look he gave me seemed to ask, _Where's yours?_

"Room 17, on the first floor," I said. When his face fell slightly, I offered, "You want to come to my room for a little while? I mean, we've got-ah, crap, I forgot my watch this morning."

Matt pushed his right sleeve up to glance at his watch. "We've got three hours until light's out," he responded quietly.

"You're left-handed?" I asked curiously.

"What? Oh. Yeah," he mumbled.

"Cool. So, you want to come to my room for a little while, seeing as we have a few hours?"

"Okay," Matt mumbled in response.

He followed me down the corridor to my room. When we reached the door, I pulled out my key card, slid it through the slot and opened the door. "Come on," I said gently.

He stepped into the room.

I shut the door behind him, dropped my books on my desk, pulled my shoes off and set them by my closet. Turning around, I noticed he was still standing by the door. "Come on," I urged. "You can put your things on my desk and your shoes by my closet. And sit down with me," I went on, motioning towards the bed. I sat down and watched as he put his things down.

He moved cautiously and I could tell, just by that, that he had suffered a long history of abuse. Back in Russia, Mamma had friend who'd adopted a little girl who'd been beaten most of her life and that same cautious, skittish nature that she'd possessed was apparent in Matt, and it broke my heart. No one should have to go through that.

"So," I said as he sat down tentatively on my bed. "Where did you grow up?"

"England," he mumbled. "I've always lived in England."

"Oh. I used to live in Russia," I said.

"Russia?" He looked at me, unfettered curiosity in his eyes. I wondered if, judging by that look, he'd always wanted to travel. "You're Russian?"

"Well, yeah," I admitted. "Mostly, but I've also got a smidgeon of Ukrainian and Dutch as well."

""But you don't sound Russian," he said. "Or Ukrainian or Dutch."

I rolled my eyes and laughed. "English is my first language, Mattie," I said, not even realizing that I'd given him a nickname. "But I do know all three."

"Really? Then say something," he answered.

"Okay. Меня зовут Мелло Keehl. Я шість років. Ik ben geboren 13 december 1989.*"

Matt's jaw dropped open and I fell back onto my pillows laughing. "Uh-eeh," he mumbled in confusion.

"Oh, gosh," I gasped, trying to stop laughing. "That look is priceless!"

He frowned and I shook my head. "I'm not laughing at you. Look, the first sentance was Russian, the second was Ukrainian, and the third was Dutch."

"That doesn't help," he grumbled.

"As long as we're friends, I'll teach you that and more," I said.

"Friends?" He sounded confused.

"Yeah," I said, smiling gently. "Meaning I'll stand up for you if you need it, keep you company, and keep your secrets safe. I'll be here for you if you ever need me to be."

"I've never had a friend," he said quietly, fiddling with the edge of his sleeve and not looking at me. "I'd probably be a horrible one."

"I doubt it," I said. "But if you don't want to-"

"Of course I want to," he said softly. "I've always wanted someone to talk to. I don't like being alone; I hate it."

I hated the pain that was seeping into his voice. It made him sound so broken.

"Hey," I said gently, touching his shoulder tentatively, fully expecting him to pull away and scared that he would.

He didn't. Instead, he looked up at me sadly, looking as if he were about to cry.

"No one likes to be alone," I whispered. "And I'll never leave you alone." I wrapped my arms around him gently. "I promise."

He buried his face against my shoulder and started crying softly.

I sighed. "I'll always be here for you, Matt. Whether you need a shoulder to cry on, or just a smile, or someone to talk to…"

"Mel…" He pulled back, wiping his eyes. "I feel like such a baby," he mumbled.

"Don't worry about it," I murmured, reaching over and wiping away some of the tears that were still slipping down his cheeks. "What are friends for?"

He smiled softly and it actually reached his eyes; that smile he smiled when he felt like he was truly accepted and loved. "Thank you," he said sincerely.

"You're welcome."

The remainder of the time, he spent playing his game, while I lay back against my pillows, reading a book, the two of us simply enjoying each other's company.


	8. Chapter 8

I glanced at the clock on my nightstand. "Oh crap," I groaned.

"What?" Matt was still focused intently on the game.

"It's almost 11:00," I answered.

"What!"

"Yeah, come on. I'll walk you to your room," I said, marking the page in my book and setting it on my nightstand. I stood up, crossing the room and pulling my shoes on.

Matt seemed reluctant to leave, and I wasn't sure if it was the fact that he was wrapped up in his game or if he had truly enjoyed my company. Finally, he turned the game off, before pocketing it as he stood up. He pulled his shoes on and grabbed his things before turning to me. "Okay, I guess I'm ready to go," he said quietly.

We made our way to his room in silence.

He kept glancing at his watch anxiously.

"Don't worry," I said, shoving my hands in my pockets as we trudged up the stairs. "We'll make it to your room before 11:00."

"What about you?" His voice was so quiet, I almost didn't hear it.

"I'll be fine," I answered him gently.

He didn't seem convinced, but kept walking. When we reached his room, he fiddled around with the card slot a little before opening his door and walking inside.

He left the door open, so I followed him inside and shut it behind myself. "So, what the heck did you do to your door?"

"What? Oh, that," he answered, dumping his books by his desk. "I hacked it."

"What?"

"Long story," he explained, pulling his goggles down to rest around his neck. His back was to me, so I couldn't see his eyes. (Thinking back, the jerk did it on purpose; he always wore his goggles because his eyes were so damn readable, or maybe that was just to me…) "I don't want my key card stolen, so I keep it in my room."

I nodded. It sounded reasonable enough. "So, uh, you want to walk to class in the morning?"

"Huh? Oh, uh, s-sure," he mumbled.

"Okay, you want me to come here in the morning?" I asked.

"Uh, yeah," he said. He pulled his goggles back over his eyes and moved past me. "Lemme show you somethin'…" He showed me how to hack the key card mechanism. It was really cool, actually. I mean we were all geniuses here, but come _on_. "And, it should work on every reader in the House," he finished. "You get all that?"

"Yeah," I said, nodding. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it," he mumbled awkwardly. "So, uh, good night, I guess…"

"Good night, Matt," I said. I noticed he was chewing his bottom lip (a habit I would soon come to realize either meant he was nervous about something or debating what to do next). "What's up?"

"Never mind, it's stupid," he mumbled.

"Matt," I said quietly. "I assure you it's not stupid. What is it?"

"I-" He rubbed his arm in embarrassment. "Can I have a, um, hug? I mean, if you don't want to, that's fine," he mumbled.

I shook my head smiling. I leaned forward and wrapped my arms around his shoulders. "That's not stupid at all," I whispered in his ear. "Anytime you want anything, all you have to do is ask."

After a few moments of hesitation, he wrapped his arms around my waist loosely. "Thank you."

After a minute or two, we pulled apart. "Now, hurry and get to bed, okay?" I said.

He nodded and mumbled, "'Night."

"Night, Matt," I answered.

The second he shut his door, I took off down the hall and to my room. I managed to step inside and shut the door just as the read out on my clock changed to 11:00. I sighed and then grinned. Yeah, life would end up pretty enjoyable now.

The next morning, I was out of bed, showered and hair dried, and hacking into the reader by 5:15. It clicked and I went in. Shutting the door behind myself, I ran and jumped onto his bed. "Morning, Mattie!" I said cheerfully.

He screamed and fell out of the bed, half tangled in the sheets so that he hung a few inches off the floor. Instead of responding, or even attempting to untangle himself, he simply glared up at me and said irritably, "What the crap, Mello! What time is this?"

"5:15," I said matter-of-factly.

"Figures," he grumbled, reaching up to untangle his legs from the sheets.

I moved off of the bed to help, but my weight shifted off the sheets and caused the rest of them to slip down.

"Crap!" Matt hit the floor. "Dang it all," he grumbled angrily, untangling himself and throwing the sheets back onto the bed.

"Oops."

He just looked at me a bit before shaking his head. "It's gonna be a long day."

Twenty minutes later, we were walking towards the cafeteria. Matt yawned, stretching one arm across his chest.

"Hey, Matt?"

"Hmm?"

"Why didn't you, you know, freak out when I woke you up this morning?" I asked.

"Huh? Oh, uh, I don't know, really. Guess it's because you're the only one I've showed how to hack the readers, and you did say you wanted to walk to class together. So, yeah…" He stretched his other arm.

"Oh. Okay." Wait. Did he say I was the only one he'd taught how to hack the readers? That had to mean he trusted me not to hurt him.

We fell into a pattern after that. I'd be at his room by 5:15, we'd get to breakfast by 5:30, and at 6:45 we'd go to our first class. In the afternoons, we'd end up in the library for about an hour and a half doing our homework and studying, and after that we'd just hang out in either his room or my own until lights out.

One afternoon around 7:00, we were just hanging out in my room; I want to say it was a…Tuesday. I was curled up at the end of my bed, leaning back on my pillows, reading _Ten Little Indians_ by Agatha Christie for literature, and Matt was curled up at the end of my bed playing his game.

"Hey, Matt?"

"Hmm?" He didn't look up at me, but I knew I had just as much of his attention as the game did, if not more.

"You trust me, right?" I asked hesitantly.

"I showed you how to hack the readers."

It was a blunt statement, but the underlying meaning… As far as I knew, Matt was the only hacker here, and those key card readers were pretty stinking advanced. For him to show me that, and give me access to his room, he had to really trust me.

"Matt, what…" I took a deep breath and continued. "What happened to you before we met?"

He froze in shock, the game falling from his hands and onto the bed as he turned to look at me cautiously.

"You don't have to tell me," I said hurriedly. "I was just curious."

"It's-it's okay," he mumbled. "I…I need to tell someone…"

I don't know how hard it was for him to talk about it, something he'd kept locked away for years. He told me about his dad leaving the day after his second birthday and how his mother had blamed him for it. He told me about _everything_ that happened the first year. Every time she slapped him, punched him, kicked him, and insulted him. But what he said next made my blood boil.

"She even told me that I…I w-wasn't worth bringing home," he managed, bursting into tears. "That I wasn't worth it!"

I wrapped my arms around him as he flung himself against me. "Don't you ever think that," I whispered fiercely. "Of course you're worth it, Mattie," I murmured gently against his ear. "You'll always be worth it."

After a while, he quieted down to soft sniffles. Without any question from him or any confirmation from me, he curled up and rested his head in my lap.

I ran my fingers through his hair in a comforting, almost motherly fashion, almost like Mamma had done for me when I was younger. "It's okay," I murmured. "I'm here."

He shifted onto his back and looked me in the eyes, tears that had been unshed threatening to spill over. "Please don't hate me," he whispered, his voice so soft I barely heard him, before lifting his arms and letting the sleeves of his shirt fall down to his elbows, revealing pale, silvery scars littered down his fore arms.

"Oh, Matt," I said, touching a finger softly to his left arm and running it across the skin gently. "I could never hate you."

"Really?" He looked so scared that I was going to leave him, it broke my heart.

"Mm-mm," I murmured, shaking my head. "Never."

He let out a soft sigh and rolled over onto his stomach before sitting up. "I want to tell you about the next year," he said quietly.

"Okay." I leaned back against my pillows and held my left arm up, letting him curl up against my side. He told me all the little things, but when he reached the Christmas before his fourth birthday, he started crying hard.

"What happened?" I asked gently.

"I talked back to her," he managed to get out, before grabbing my hand and pressing my fingers against the underside of his chin and letting go.

I ran my fingers gently across the skin. "Oh, shit," I gasped softly, pulling my hand away. The scars were deep even after the years. "Why?"

"She told me to do something, I can't even remember what it was now, and I told her no," he mumbled as the tears continued sliding down his cheeks. "She grabbed me by the throat, dragging me off my feet and shook me, screaming at me about how disrespectful I was…"

Even though he trailed off and buried his face against my side, sobbing, I could imagine what happened. Three year old Matt getting dragged off his feet, his mother's hands tight around his throat. Her screaming in his face as Matt, no doubt scared out of his wits, scrabbled at her hands as he struggled to breathe. I started to shake furiously. "That _bitch_ ," I growled angrily. "I'll fucking murder her!"

Matt made a small, noncommittal sound in the back of his throat. "Don't worry about it," he mumbled.

"I _will_ worry about it," I said fiercely. "She tried to kill you. She deserves to die."

"No," he said, shifting slightly and trying to dry his eyes with the back of his hands. "I meant don't worry about killing her."

"God doesn't like ugly," I said, remembering the phrase from when Mamma was alive.

"There's no such thing," he said. "She just got what she deserved. Fate, I guess you could say, but not God…" He told me about the afternoon that his house burned down and how he'd run instead of waking his mother up. "Does that make me a bad person?" he asked, sniffling softly.

"No, of course it doesn't," I assured him, pulling him against me gently. "You're not a bad person, Mattie, she was. That's why you survived and she didn't."

He just kept crying until he eventually cried himself to sleep in my arms.

#####################################################################################

We became extremely close over the next year. One afternoon, Roger called Matt to his office and, though he only wanted Matt to come, Matt begged Roger to let me come too, so he conceded.

We sat in Roger's office listening to him and answering his questions about how we'd gotten along the past year.

"Matt," Roger began. "I called you here today to inform you of something about your parents."

"Dad?" Matt asked excitedly, almost bouncing in anticipation. Sort of like Christmas morning when I'd told him I had a present for him. "Is Dad alive?"

"No," Roger said. "He is not. He passed on not long after he left his family. However, we have found some paperwork that has proven Rita Jeevas was not your biological mother."

"What?" Matt squeaked in disbelief.

"Yes, your biological mother's name was Molly James," Roger explained.

"Wait, 'was'?" I said. "What happened to her?"

"She died a few days after he was born, due to complications from childbirth. Only after her friend, Matt's father and the man she'd had an affair with, assured her that he would take care of the boy did she finally let go over her life and pass on."

Matt made a weird whimpering noise and bolted from the room before I could say a word to him.

"You know," Roger sighed. "Somehow I knew he would take this badly. I suppose it's a good thing you're friends with him. He needs someone to talk to no doubt…"

I ran after Matt. I grabbed his wrist as I caught up to him. "Matt, please," I started, pulling him gently to a stop.

He whirled around to face me and I saw how close to breaking he truly was. "I-I understand now," he finally managed to choke out.

"You understand what?" I asked gently.

"What she meant by 'You weren't even worth bringing home'…"

"Oh, Matt." I held out my arms and he collapsed against me, crying softly. "You're always worth it."

"To you, but not to her," he said sadly, sniffling as he pushed his goggles up to wipe his eyes.

I reached up and wiped his eyes gently with the hem of my sleeve.

"But it's enough," he said, smiling.

"I'm glad," I murmured, ruffling his hair affectionately. "You want to go play Super Smash Bro.?" I asked.

He looked up at me, and I could still see a little residual pain floating in his eyes. "Uh-huh."

"Come on," I said, nudging him gently in the ribs before taking off down the hall at a sprint.

He laughed and followed me to his room.

Now, don't get me wrong. I've never been much of a video game person, but it cheers him up when he's down. I've known how to read since I was two; I knew how to read in four different languages as well. So, my days were spent curled up in the reading room with Mamma or Anya, reading anything I could get my hands on. The days I spent with Anya were the most fun because she'd often tell me stories about her little brother, Nicolai. She'd say I reminded her of him, and she'd always call me her 'Little Nico'."

I missed Anya, though. I was the only one she would ever really talk to. She never told me about her past, but she trusted me with a lot more than she ever trusted Aunt Svetlana. It was sad, though, because I could never get her to believe that God would help her. I'd tell her, time and time again, but she just couldn't come to believe that if some greater power cared for her, it would so easily let her be hurt. In that way, Matt resembled her a lot. He didn't believe God could have any precedence or any meaning if he would so easily let someone be hurt.

We stayed in his room that night. After a few hours, I got tired of playing but I let him continue. I knew he'd fall asleep eventually. Sure enough, when I woke up the next morning around quarter to five, I was still sitting cross-legged with my back against the wall by his bed and he was curled up with his head resting on my lap, sleeping peacefully.

Matt yawned quietly and sat up, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "Morning," he mumbled.

"Mm." I was still lost in my memories until he poked my cheek playfully.

"Hey. Earth to Mel," Matt said. "I said 'Morning'."

"What? Oh. Morning, Matt," I said distractedly.

"Uh-oh, you're thinking. That's not good," he joked.

"Shut it," I said, rolling my eyes and pushing him playfully.

"Okay, okay. So, what are you thinking about?" he asked.

I stood up and stretched. "Stuff," I answered cryptically.

"Stuff, huh?" he queried, looking up at me. "About what? Before you came here?"

"Yeah," I answered.

Thankfully, he didn't push the matter. Instead, he just smiled and got to his feet. "Oh, alright. Just know I'll always listen, okay?"

"I know," I answered. It made me feel bad that I wasn't telling him. I could usually guess what he was thinking, but if I couldn't, all I had to do was ask him and he'd tell me; but I couldn't bring myself to tell him, just yet. _I'll tell him later_ , I promised myself.

"Hey!"

I blinked.

"You're doing it again," Matt said, sighing.

"What?"

"You're doing that thing where you drift off and don't listen to me," he answered.

"I'm listening," I countered.

"Really? Then what did I say?"

"Well…"

"I knew it. You weren't even listening to me," he pouted.

I rolled my eyes. Pouting didn't work on me and Matt knew it.

"Doesn't matter," he mumbled, shaking his head. "I was just rambling anyway. Come on, we should get to breakfast."

"Okay."


	9. Chapter 9

There was one thing he did deserve though. Matt deserved to be loved and cherished like the wonderful, caring person that he was, and always had been. But I'd hurt him; I don't know how he ever found it in his heart to forgive me, not after the promise I'd broken, the one I made to him that night.

" _Mel…Mel…ngh," Matt panted._

" _What?" I managed to gasp as I thrust in and out of him. "Are you…mfh…close?"_

" _Y-yeah…" he managed. "But…P-promise me something…"_

" _Any-ngh-thing."_

" _Don't leave."_

_I stopped mid-thrust and gazed down at him, his lust-filled sapphire eyes gazing up at me pleadingly._

" _I promise," I murmured as I leaned down to kiss him before thrusting my hips forward and striking his sweet spot one last time, sending him over the edge as he groaned my name and pulled me over with him._

It was a simple promise, one I had made almost instinctually and broken almost as quickly. How _could_ he forgive me? And yet, there he was, curled against me, clinging to me like a child clings to its mother. Maybe that's why I'd never told him about how I came to Wammy's. I don't think that I could add anymore stress to him. I was always the one who took care of him…

" _Hey, Mello!" Linda called as she saw Matt and I walk into the common room. "Hey, Matt!"_

" _Hey," I answered._

_Matt just stared at his feet and mumbled a greeting as he pushed a little closer to me. He didn't like going to the common room because there were more people than he enjoyed being around at one time. Classes were something he put up with because he had to; the common room was a different matter._

_I pulled his hand into mine and squeezed it gently. "So, what did you want us for, Linda?" I asked. Better to get this over with as quickly as possible._

" _Come over here," she said, turning around and walking over to a slightly secluded corner where Resa was sitting cross-legged on the floor. "This," she said, picking up an enormous bag of animal charms, like you'd make necklaces or bracelets with or something._

" _What's that?" I asked, and Matt actually turned to look as well. Apparently, he was just as confused and curious as I was._

" _Spirit animals," Linda said, as if she thought that would explain it all._

" _Which are?" I said, starting to get slightly annoyed. She knew Matt didn't like to be around more than the three of us at a time, so I couldn't even fathom why on earth she thought it necessary to make this visit any longer than it absolutely had to be._

" _Spirit animals are animal charms that have a certain quality about them that describe you." To my surprise, it was Resa that answered instead of Linda._

" _Okay, so what does that have to do with Matt and me?"_

" _I want you to make some for each other. Resa and I already have one and we agreed that you two needed one." Linda shook the bag to add a slight bit of emphasis to her request (?)._

" _So what are yours?" Hey, we were there, I might as well find out._

_Linda grinned, as if she thought I would never ask that question of her, and pulled a necklace that had a rabbit charm dangling from it from under her hoodie. "Rabbit: talkative and sometimes annoying, you know a lot about the people around you. Even though you might seem rude by knowing so much, you're actually very kind and caring." Wow, that fit her to a t._

_Resa pulled a necklace with a dove charm on it out from under her sweater and said quietly, "Dove: quiet and not very social, you tend to keep to yourself but are truly caring, especially of your friends."_

" _Now, pick!" Linda urged, pushing the bag towards us. "You first, Matt."_

_Matt swallowed hard and reached into the bag with his right hand, since his left hand was currently clasped in my right, and dug around for a few seconds before pulling out a cat._

" _Oh." Linda smiled knowingly, and shook the bag at me. "Your turn!"_

" _Wait, what's a cat mean?" I asked._

" _I'll tell you after you pick," Linda chuckled._

_I rolled my eyes and stuck my left hand in the bag. Fox? No, he didn't like pranks. Dove? Maybe. Definitely not a rabbit or a snake. I thought about one time when I let my mouth slip and said something that hurt Matt. His pouting might not work on me, but that wounded puppy look… My fingers wrapped around a dog charm. Puppy… I pulled it out, my hand wrapped tightly around it._

" _So?" Linda asked._

_I opened my hand and held it palm up, the charm nestled in the center._

_Linda nodded. "Thought so."_

" _So, what do they mean?" I asked, annoyance beginning to creep into my voice again._

" _I'll start with Matt's," Linda said. "Dog: quiet and introverted, you have your quirks that tend to keep people at a distance. Though you've been hurt in the past, you're loyal and trusting. You've put all of your trust in the one person that showed they cared, but if that trust is ever broken, it'll shatter what's left of your abused heart."_

_God, that was practically as dead on as Linda's and Resa's, but I had to make sure not to damage him any further._

_Resa spoke next. "Cat: though brash and abrasive to most, you have the one you're gentle with, be it friend or lover, and they trust you completely. As close as you are, you still find it hard to completely bear your heart to them."_

_Linda smiled, almost sadly, before looking at Matt and I. "So, there you go. Here's the leather to make the necklace and if you ever need to replace it, come see me."_

Puppy… He was my little puppy and I had to take care of him. Even if it meant keeping my own pain locked inside. I pulled his necklace from under his shirt and he looked up at me curiously before I pulled mine out as well and hugged him gently. "How do you feel, Mattie?" I asked.

"Better I guess," he murmured, snuggling closer. "My head doesn't hurt anymore, but I feel a little sick to my stomach."

"Well, let's go grab something to eat, okay?"

"Okay," he agreed and we got up and went down to the cafeteria.

* * *

A few weeks later, Mello and I were curled up on his bed. I was laying on my back, between his legs, with my head resting on his stomach as he ran his fingers gently through my hair with one hand, his other hand running over the scars on my neck. Somehow, he wasn't getting mad; I guess he was just happy I was there. I rolled over onto my stomach.

"Hey, I've been thinking," Mello started. "How long's it been since we've made love?"

His question caught me off guard, and I knew he could see it in my eyes, but I did a mental count. Add the few weeks we'd been back together, the few weeks I'd been in the hospital, the few weeks after I'd fucked Near, and the few days before that… "About two months," I murmured quietly.

"Yeah…Mattie, do you…wanna make love?" he asked softly.

I crawled up and kissed him gently. "I've been dying to hear you say that…"

He cupped my face gently in his hands and kissed me, nipping lightly at my bottom lip.

I gasped at the initial shock and his tongue darted into my mouth, re-exploring, and re-claiming, every centimeter.

He pulled back and then flipped our positions so that I was beneath him, and pulled my shirt over my head, tossing it to the floor. Mello kissed me and then began trailing soft kisses down my jaw line and down my neck, where he nipped playfully.

I moaned and arched against him a little, feeling him smirk against my skin before pulling back. "Bastard."

I hadn't realized I'd spoken my thoughts until he paused, his shirt halfway up his chest, looking at me. "How am I a bastard? We can't make love with our clothes _on_ , can we?"

I shook my head and sat up, starting to undo my belt when he flung his shirt to the floor and pushed me back onto the bed, undoing my belt and popping the button of my jeans open before snagging the pull of my zipper in his teeth and pulling it down.

"Mel…"

"What?" he asked as he looked up at me.

"Who's gonna top?" It wasn't that I cared really; it had simply been ages since either of us had bottomed; we'd have to go slowly and carefully.

"Whatever you want, Mail," he whispered softly.

"I… I want you to top," I answered. "I want you in me."

He crawled up over me and kissed me gently, lingering a bit so that his lips brushed as he spoke, "As you wish, my love…" He reached down with one hand and undid his belt and jeans, kicking them off.

I heard them hit the floor and I opened my mouth to say something, only to have him cut me off by kissing me again and fondling me through my boxers, the only thing between his hand and my skin. I whined softly.

He smirked into the kiss and hooked his thumbs in the waistband of my boxers, pulling them down.

I hissed softly as the air hit me, but it morphed into a quiet moan as Mello let the tips of his fingers ghost over my hip bones before he gripped my hips gently and, leaning down, licked the underside of my shaft lightly, before taking me in fully and deepthroating me.

"Oh, God," I groaned as I felt the tip of my cock rub against the back of his throat. My fingers flew to his hair, gripping tightly as he sucked me off. I bent over, my nose almost buried in his hair as his sinfully talented tongue had me panting and groaning with pleasure. "M-mel…" I panted weakly.

"Hmm?" He sat up, pre-cum dribbling from the corner of his mouth.

My cock twitched. God, that was such a turn-on.

"What is it?" he asked in a quiet, husky voice.

"I want you in me," I panted.

"Okay." He made to wipe the pre-cum away, but I dove forward and licked it away myself. He slipped his boxers off, before pushing me back onto the mattress and crawling between my legs.

I whimpered in anticipation.

His fingers wrapped gently around the underside of my thighs and he bent down, touching his tongue gently to the tight ring of muscle at my entrance.

His tongue slipped inside and I moaned, pushing closer to him. I let him continue for a few minutes, before I gasped, "Mel…"

He pulled back, sitting up and gazing down at me.

I grabbed his right wrist and pulled his fingers into my mouth sucking on them gently.

He let me suck on his fingers as he stroked my cheek tenderly. Finally, he pulled his fingers from my mouth and pressed his index finger to my entrance and slipped it inside. He thrust it in and out gently a few times before slipping his middle finger in as well. He continued until he managed to slip three fingers in, thrusting them in and out. Then, he caught me off-guard by pulling something only Mello Keehl could do. He rubbed the tip of his middle finger against my sweet spot and scissored his index and ring fingers out, stretching me as he stroked my prostate gently.

"Ah-ah, Mell-ngha-o," I moaned.

He continued, drawing more sensual moans from my lips.

"M-mel, p-please," I panted.

Thankfully, he pulled his fingers out gently, and lined himself up carefully at my entrance. He pushed gently inside.

I cried out in pain before I could stop myself.

He stopped. "Sorry," he mumbled against my neck. "I'll move slowly."

It was like our first time all over again. He was gentle as he stroked my hip softly and shifted in slowly. His control slipped just a bit, and he slammed into me quickly, his hips snapping against my own and sending a shooting pain up my spine.

"Shit!" I groaned.

"Mfh! S-sorry" he said, his voice wavering just a little.

"S'okay," I mumbled, in between pants. "It's just been too long."

"Yeah," he panted. "God, you're too tight, Mattie…"

I was already struggling to loosen up and he nuzzled against my neck lovingly. After a few minutes, I mumbled, "Move."

He began thrusting in and out slowly and I grunted in annoyance.

"Faster," I hissed.

He obliged instantly, and I had to wrap my arms tightly around his neck as he found my sweet spot and began abusing it roughly.

It was all over far too fast, but our foreplay had lasted longer than usual so I dealt with it. "Mello-o!" I groaned as he bit down on my neck causing my orgasm to rip through me.

He grunted against my neck and thrust forward again as he followed me through. He pulled back a little and licked the bite on my neck gently. That would definitely leave a mark, but I didn't care. Mello pulled out and collapsed beside me.

We lay there, the moonlight shining on us through the open curtains in his window.

Mello sighed and ran his fingers down my side gently. "I love you, Mail," he whispered softly.

"Mm, love you too, Mihael," I murmured.

He took my wrist in his hands and pressed his lips to the scars gently. "I'm sorry you've been hurt, and I'm so sorry that I was one of the ones that hurt you," he said sadly.

"It's okay," I murmured. "Being with you, that makes my life worth living…"

* * *

 

We stayed in his room the next few weeks. Every morning, he woke me with a gentle kiss, and every night, he led me to sleep with another gentle kiss. He was always by my side, except in class. He walked me to the classes I had by myself and he was always there, waiting by the door, when the class ended. Near, truthfully, flew from my worries. It was just Mello and I, and I felt _safe_.

And, feeling safe, I thought nothing of leaving class one day in history.

Linda glanced up at me worriedly as I stood up.

"It's okay," I whispered. "I'm just going to the restroom."

"Okay," she said, though she still sounded worried.

I walked out the door and down the hall, shoving my hands in my pockets. I was thinking of nothing much in particular until I felt a body slam into me from behind, shoving me down and pinning me to the floor. I tried to breathe, to say something, but the air was being forced out of me by a hand pressed painfully between my shoulder blades. I blacked out mentally and started screaming and sobbing uncontrollably. I was only barely aware of the warmth of my own blood dripping to the floor.

* * *

When the first scream echoed through the halls, I fell out of my desk in shock and hit the floor.

Mrs. Roland stopped teaching and turned around to face the class.

The screams continued and it hit me why they sounded familiar. That was _Matt_.

"Fuck!" I cursed, getting to my feet and bolting from the room.

I found Linda kneeling by Matt's side. He looked unconscious, but when I dropped down beside him he stirred slightly.

"Mel…?" he whispered weakly.

"Shh. I'm here. It's okay," I murmured softly, stroking his cheek gently with my fingertips. "Linda, what happened?"

"I'm not sure," she admitted quietly. "All I knew was that he was going to the restroom. But when I heard him screaming…"

As she trailed off, I did a quick glance over of Matt's injuries. There was a lot of blood around the seat of his jeans. Dammit, I knew exactly what had happened. "Come on," I murmured, putting my hands under his arms and pulling him gently to his feet. I lifted him up bridal style and he buried his face against my chest. When I found who did this, they were _dead_.

I carried him to our rooms where I grabbed a change of clothes for both of us, which Linda awkwardly agreed to carry, and took him to the bathroom. Easing him down to the floor and leaning him back against the wall, I began running the water. As I started to ease his shirt up, I said, "Linda, please go get Nurse Jade."

"Okay," she said, before turning and leaving the room and shutting the door behind herself.

I stripped him of the rest of his clothes before lowering him down into the water carefully. I shed my own blood-soiled clothes and climbed in with him. I washed his face and hair gently. After rinsing his hair, I let him lay against my chest as I scrubbed his back gently. The water, which had been pinkish before, was slowly darkening and it made me sick.

A knock on the door got my attention and Matt even jumped a little. "It's okay," I murmured softly, kissing his forehead gently. "Who is it?" I called towards the door.

"Nurse Jade."

I sighed and began rinsing his back gently. "Come in."

I heard her open the door and gasp. "My God," she breathed. "What happened?"

"This is why I haven't left him alone," I said. "Because I _knew_ this would happen."

"Mello, what-"

"I'll fucking _murder_ Near!" I snarled, causing Matt to whimper softly.

"Mello," Nurse Jade said sadly. "Calm down."

I glared at her angrily. "Why the fuck should I calm down?"

"Because Matt is stressed enough as it is."

Her words struck me hard and I glanced down at Matt, who was shaking slightly.

Matt had always fed off of my emotions and feelings in a way; he hated to see me mad, because it affected him the worst.

I took a shaky breath and forced myself to relax. "I'm still going to murder Near," I said.

"I don't doubt you will," she agreed. "There's really not much you can do about his injuries, though, except to keep him comfortable until they heal. This, of course, means that you two will be excused from class until then." With that, she turned around and left, leaving me and my abused little puppy alone.


	10. Chapter 10

A few hours later, I had him, and myself, dressed, and we were curled up on my bed. Matt lay against my side, seemingly peacefully asleep, but I knew better. He was trembling slightly in his half sleep; he was blocking out not only the physical pain, but the mental and emotional pain as well. Life's not a video game, and video game knowledge rarely helps in life, but Matt always told me that when you start feeling safe, the enemy attacks. Fuck if that didn't describe this situation perfectly.

We spent practically a full week in my room, leaving only to eat and relieve ourselves. Near the end of the week, about noon, Matt was curled up with his head resting on my lap, napping. He hadn't slept well at all during the nights; he was constantly waking up or just wouldn't be able to get to sleep at all. Near had really fucked him up. I ran my fingers gently through his hair. He wouldn't eat at all, nor would he drink much, and it worried me because I knew after a week, he wouldn't be able to keep anything down. I'd managed to get him to drink a little water a couple of minutes ago and I was praying he'd be able to keep it down.

"Mello." His voice was quiet, and scratchy from disuse; he hadn't spoken all week.

"Yeah, what is it, Matt?" I murmured. "You okay?"

He didn't answer either question, but pushed himself up shakily into a sitting position and just stared blankly at a spot on the sheets.

I knew that look all too well. Fuck. I quickly grabbed the wastebasket and put it in front of him.

Matt made a weird noise in the back of his throat and coughed the water back up weakly.

I sighed and rubbed his back gently, setting the wastebasket down on the floor. "It's okay," I murmured softly. "I'm here."

Matt leaned against me, laying his head on my shoulder. He was so thin; he'd always been thin, though. When a group of bullies beat him up when we were six, I'd carried him all the way to the infirmary in my arms like you would a puppy. That was a different kind of thin, though. What I felt when he leaned against me was more the frail, sickly kind of thin, that I'd felt the first night I'd hugged him when we were little, the night he trusted me with his darkest pain and I'd held him through the night. He shifted a little and wound his left arm around my neck loosely, more clinging to the collar of my shirt than anything, really. "Mel…" There was his voice again, still as quiet as the first time.

"What is it, Mattie?" I murmured, wrapping my right arm gently around his waist.

Next thing I knew, he was in my lap, his lips pressing desperately against my own. "Matt…" I knew he was seeking comfort, but it was too soon for me to make love to him without running the risk of hurting him. I pulled his hand gently away from the zipper of my jeans. "Not yet, okay?"

To my dismay, he burst into tears, burying his head against my chest.

"Look, Matt. Damn. Mattie, look at me." I pushed his chin up gently so that we could see eye-to-eye. "I'll kiss you, and I'll hold you, but I don't want to risk hurting you, so let's wait a little while before we make love, okay?"

"But-"

"Shh," I said soothingly, wiping his tears away and kissing him gently on the lips. "It's alright." I brushed the back of my hand against his cheek softly. "Please don't cry."

Instead of answering, he wound his arms around my neck and kissed me, the same hungry, desperate passion still there.

I let myself fall back against the pillows, pulling him down with me gently before I began kissing the underside of his chin where, even after over ten years, the scars were still there.

He moaned softly as I licked a particularly deep one next the jawbone. "Mel…"

He was sitting on my stomach, leaning over, so while I could feel his arousal he couldn't feel mine, which was good because Matt was quick enough that he could have me out and be riding me before I could even register my zipper being pulled.

I pushed him back gently and sat up, trying to ignore the hurt look in his eyes. I pushed him off of me before I undid his belt and popped open the button of his jeans, undoing the zipper as well.

"Mel-ngha!"

I caught him off-guard, deepthroating him instantly. I'd given him no warning at all.

I felt his fingers tangle in my hair as the room filled with his pants, whimpers, and whines.

"Mel…Mel, I want you in me," he begged.

I sat up, wiping my mouth on the back of my hand. "I don't want to hurt you," I whispered, zipping his pants back up.

He bit his lip, looking as if he were about to cry, before pushing away from me and running from the room.

I sighed heavily. He probably wouldn't talk to me after this.

Sure enough, for the next week he only spoke to me when absolutely necessary. We still walked to and from class together, but it was simply out of habit. Friday afternoon, nearly two weeks after the 'incident', I tried to talk to Matt.

"Hey, why does it seem like you're avoiding me?" I asked quietly.

He'd just barely started to turn towards the stairs to his room when I spoke, but when I did, he bolted up the stairs like a startled rabbit.

"Crap!" I charged after him, begging him to stop. He was fast when he wanted to be. I heard his door slam shut as I reached the third floor. I sprinted down the hall. His reader was unlocked, so I turned the knob and pushed.

It didn't budge.

I knew what he was doing; I'd seen it once before when some bullies were chasing him, although I'd seen it in action from the _other_ side of the door. He was using his own body to lodge the door shut.

I felt tears welling up in my eyes as my throat tightened. My books slipped from my hands and thudded to the floor as I slumped against the door and let myself slide to the floor. "Please, Mattie…" I pleaded, starting to cry.

I didn't know whether as little as a few minutes had passed, or a few hours, but I felt the door open and I almost fell over, so much of my weight was being supported by the door. I looked up to see Matt, his hand still resting on the knob.

His eyes were puffy from crying and his goggles were shoved up on his head with none of the usual careful nonchalance they usually were, rather, looking like they had been shoved up hastily, simply to get them out of the way, which caused only a few strands of hair to fall back over his forehead. His cheeks were still wet with tears and he was biting his lip and looking as if he were struggling not to cry again, though his eyes were still brimming with tears.

I knew my legs would never be able to support both of our weights, considering that I'd been sitting on my legs so long that they were practically asleep. I held my arms up instead.

Matt collapsed against me, fresh sobs pouring from him. "I've missed you…so much," he managed. "I just want…"

"I know," I murmured against his neck softly. "I know."

He didn't have to speak it, because I knew full well what his heart was going through.

_I just want you to hold me, to love me. I want you to tell me that I'm yours and nothing in the world, in existence, will ever change that. I want you to tell me how much I mean to you, to tell me my worth._

"Matt…" I mumbled softly against his neck.

Faster than my brain could register, he had my zipper down and was easing himself down onto me, his pants lying beside where we were sitting.

I put my left hand a little behind me to support our weight as Matt fully seated himself on my lap and I wrapped my right arm under his, his arms being wound tightly around my neck, pulling him closer to me so that I could assault his neck and collarbone with my teeth and tongue.

His face was buried against my shoulder and he was moaning softly.

I knew if he hit an orgasm how we were our clothes would be ruined, but I didn't care. It wouldn't matter as long as Matt got what he needed.

Over Matt's breathy moans against my ear, I heard footsteps on the stairs and realization dawned on me. We were having sex in the middle of the third floor hallway of the boys' dorm. Roger would kill us; knowing our luck, that was Roger on the stairs. Shit. I moved my right hand to support Matt's ass and started to stand up.

Thankfully, Matt took the hint and wrapped his legs around my waist.

We didn't need to leave our stuff in the hall, so I hooked my foot in Matt's jeans, which luckily had his boxers in them, and flung them through the doorway before kicking my books into the room as well. I carried Matt into the room and attempted to kick the door shut, but failing, and laid him carefully on his bed. His bed was unmade, as always.

I had to pull out of him to get my clothes off, but I pulled his shirt off and pulled the covers over us.

Matt knew it would take a little to get me hard, so he started stroking me while he sucked on my collarbone.

Unfortunately, thanks to my loud moans of pleasure and Matt's door being open, Roger heard us and stormed into the room, yelling about how he'd told us to keep "such acts" quiet.

"There's not even anyone in the hall yet," I countered angrily. Matt needed this and yet Roger… I don't think anyone will ever know how hard it is to get hard, let alone _stay_ hard, with Roger Ruvie standing in the doorway of the room.

Matt whined, sensing the issue, and pressed our bodies closer together, arching against me and trying to distract me from thinking about Roger.

"And quit that when I'm obviously standing right here," Roger bellowed.

I snapped then, snatching the nearest blunt object, which happened to be an approximately ten centimetre thick history textbook that had been sitting on Matt's nightstand from when he'd been working on an essay, and flinging it at Roger. Now, as far as I knew, the only person in Wammy's with reflexes fast enough to avoid something I had flung at them would be Matt. I'd found that out accidentally when I'd gotten frustrated by something about a year ago and grabbed my literature book, which was seven or eight centimetres thick, and flung it over my shoulder.

Matt yelped, ducking just in time, and dropped his game on the bed before coming over and wrapping his arms around my waist and nuzzling against my side, trying to calm me down.

As I thought, Roger barely had time to duck and the book slammed it into the wall, denting it a good three or four centimetres.

"For fuck's sake," I yelled. "I'm trying to comfort him and you're not helping!"

"How the hell is that comforting him?" Roger yelled back.

I simply glared at him in response.

"Whatever. Just don't leave this textbook in the hall." He didn't comment on the dent, but he'd given up on that a while ago when I'd told him that it was either the wall or Near's head.

"Well…" I said, sitting up so that the sheet fell into a crumpled pile around my waist. The way I was turned only allowed Roger a view of Matt from the waist up, luckily. "Guess I'll have to get up…" I smirked.

Roger blanched visibly and tossed the book back into the room, where it skidded to a stop against the nightstand, and slammed the door.

Matt whimpered softly, pulling my attention back to him, as he leaned up to kiss me.

I tried, I really did, but Roger had pissed me off so badly that I couldn't enjoy it. That was how it worked with me when I was pissed off. I either fucked Matt so hard that I ended up hurting him (that had only happened once, and I promised him it would never happen again), or I couldn't enjoy any of it. This happened to be one of those times. I sighed, pulling away from him and starting to get dressed.

Matt let out a soft whine, but didn't complain.

Once we were both dressed, I sat down on the floor, leaning back against the bed. "Sorry, Matt," I mumbled dejectedly.

He curled up beside me and laid his head on my shoulder. "S'okay," he murmured. "It's not your fault Roger's a prick that doesn't know how to sod off when he's not wanted." In an undertone, he mumbled, "Which is all the time…"

I still felt bad that I couldn't give him what he needed. I sighed and looped my arms around him gently, resting my chin on top of his head as he slipped his arms around my waist.

He squeezed me to him a little and sighed. "This is enough," he murmured softly, "to keep me from going crazy."


	11. Chapter 11

A knock on the door interrupted our moment. I frowned. There was only one person in Wammy's that came to Matt's room (besides me) and knocked.

“Come in, Linda,” Matt called.

She opened the door and sighed. “You two kind of have to come with me,” she said, looking tired and frustrated.

“Why?” I asked, not shifting my position.

“Roger wants you in his office,” Linda replied.

I heaved a sigh and stood up, pulling Matt with me.

He unwound his arms from around my waist and shoved his hands in his pockets.

As we followed Linda down the hall, she said, “So, what did the old coot get you for this time?”

“Apparently, I'm not allowed to comfort Matt any longer,” I said.

Linda giggled at my statement; she knew exactly what kind of “comfort” I meant.

“But you know,” I went on, forgetting for a moment that Linda was a girl. “You wouldn't believe how difficult it is to get or stay hard with that prick staring you down.”

“You're right,” Linda snickered. “I wouldn't know, because I'm not a _boy_. Although, Matt's cute enough to make me wish sometimes...”

We laughed, all of us knowing the joke well. Long time ago (or when we were fourteen, whichever you like), she'd explained, awkwardly, how she'd always kind of wanted to be with us. Odd at first, true, but Matt and I shrugged it off. She'd actually admitted that both of us were cute, but that it had gone from a crush to a friendship.

“Hey,” she said, turning around and walking backwards so she could see us. “Remember that time when you practically gave Roger a freaking aneurism because you dyed your hair pink and purple stripes, Mello?”

Matt had to shove his fist in his mouth to suppress the majority of his hysterical laughter.

“Yeah,” I said, trying to suppress my own laughter. I'd scared the crap out of Matt when it happened too. It was about midsummer, we were eight at the time, and Roger had just pissed me off so badly that I'd almost broken Matt's arms when he'd tried to hug me. So, I decided to get back at the git (Roger, of course, not Matt. I'd never call my best friend that, even jokingly).

_It was a Sunday night when I sneaked into Nurse Jade's office and filched the dyes._

_The next morning, I woke Matt the same time and way as always, as had become ritual for the past two years. I bounced onto his bed beside him and shouted, “Morning, Mattie!”_

_Matt rolled over and blinked sleepily at me. Then his eyes went wide in shock and he sat up and screamed, “Holy crap, Mel, what happened to your freaking hair!”_

“ _I dyed it,” I answered simply._

_He grabbed my shoulders and shook me hard. “Please, please, please, please,” he begged, emphasizing each word with a shake. “Tell me you used temporary dye and not permanent.”_

_I chuckled nervously. “Eh-heh...um,no.”_

_He groaned and shook his head before climbing out of bed and grabbing his clothes and getting ready._

_ Down at breakfast, Matt was half filling his face with cereal and half playing his games, and I was picking at my food. I wasn't really all that hungry this morning; plus, I  wanted Roger to notice me, and notice me he did. _

“ _MELLO KEEHL!” he bellowed._

_I smirked. Just the reaction I'd been hoping for. I noticed Matt pocket his game quickly; Roger had already confiscated one of his handhelds this month._

“ _What on_ _ earth did you do to your hair?” Roger demanded angrily. _

“ _I dyed it.” Duh._

“ _What in the world possessed you to dye your hair?”_

“ _Just wanted to.” To get back at you, you bloody git._

“ _Why pink and purple? Why not something like brown or black?”_

“ _'Coz I like the Cheshire Cat.” Because brown and black wouldn't have pissed you off as badly._

_Matt snickered, knowing the truth behind the half-lie._

“ _Detention,” Roger huffed angrily. “Tonight at five-fifteen. Both of you.”_

“ _Wait. What did Matt do?” I snapped._

“ _He helped you.”_

“ _No, he didn't!”_

“ _No, I didn't!”_

_We spoke at the same time and I saw the shock flicker in Matt's eyes for a moment at the fact that he'd defended himself._

“ _Whatever, I don't care anymore. I want both of your trouble-making rear ends in detention at five-fifteen. You, Mello, for ridiculously dyed hair and you, Matt, for playing video games during school hours. Give that here as well.”_

_Matt's jaw dropped in shock. “But-but...”_

“ _Now.”_

_Matt pouted and handed the game to Roger before putting his head on his arms on the table._

_Roger walked off._

“ _Dammit,” I mumbled. “Sorry, Matt.” I hadn't meant to get him in trouble, too. That git was going to pay._

“ _'S'okay.” His voice was muffled by his arms._

“ _No, it's not. This,” I tugged at a few strands of purple, “was s'posed to get back at him for pissing me off so badly that I almost broke your arms. I never meant for you to get in trouble.”_

_Matt didn't answer, his head still buried against his arms._

_I sighed. Saving time, I crawled under the table and settled next to him; wrapping my arms around his waist, I rested my chin on his shoulder._

_He stiffened a little at my touch, but relaxed again._

“ _I'll get your games back,” I promised._

“ _I don't care that much about my Game Gear,” he mumbled quietly. “But that one was the Game Boy my dad gave me._ _ Dad's Game Boy.” _

“ _I'll get them back,” I promised again. I knew how important that Game Boy was to him. When it wasn't with him, it was locked in a safe in his closet._

_At five-fifteen that day, I slipped into a desk next to Matt's in detention and slipped two handhelds into his lap._

_He looked at me, gratefulness shimmering in his eyes behind his goggles. 'Thank you,' he mouthed._

_I nodded and smiled. No one stole my best friend's things._

_Of course, breaking into Roger's office earned me a month's worth of detention. Being the freaking git like he always was, Roger marked the file that I would have detention until my hair was back to normal._

_Two weeks later, as I was walking back to my room, Matt tackled me to the floor and started running his fingers through my hair, almost as if he were looking for something. “Thought so,” he laughed and rolled off of me._

“ _What was that for?” I asked, sitting up._

“ _Nothin', Linda just says Roger's getting tired of seeing it and I wondered how fast your hair grew. Which is about a couple centimetres.”_

“Yeah, I remember we had to cut it about eight times over the next year,” Matt murmured thoughtfully.

“Yeah...”

We walked into Roger's office and Matt and I settled down in the chairs while Linda leaned back against the wall.

Roger folded his hands in front of his mouth, glaring at us over his fingertips. “Now,” he said quietly, but an angry quiet. “Why were you committing such  _ acts _ in the third floor hallway of the boys' dorm?”

“I told you,” I said, sighing in frustration. “I was comforting him. He's my best friend.”  
“And since when does comforting your best friend involve having sex with him in the middle of the hallway?”

I opened my mouth to correct him on a few things. One, that we weren't  _ having sex _ we were  _ making love _ and there's a big fucking difference between the two, and that sometimes, the only way Matt could be comforted was through a physical touch.

Linda beat me to it with a very snarky comment of her own. “You shouldn't take it out on Matt and Mello just because you can't get anything. There are plenty of women that love men that take care of children, or, better yet, even more that love men that take care of orphans. Unless, of course, you're not looking for a  _ woman _ .”

Matt's, Roger's, and even my own my own mouth dropped open in shock. Was she insinuating that Roger was... No. I shuddered mentally. No way in hell I would dwell on that.

Matt sighed in boredom, the situation already getting old for him and set his head on my shoulder.

I let my eyes flicker back and forth between Linda and Roger, but only out of a lack of anything better to do.

Mello's hand found mine and he laced his fingers with my own, squeezing gently.

I felt a small smile form on my face. Mello was right; his words fell on my ears and circled my brain, but his actions were melted into my heart for eternity.

Roger gaped like a fish out of water for a few minutes before he slammed his fist onto the desk and roared, “I will not be spoken to with such _blatant_ disrespect!”

“Kay, kay,” I grumbled. “We get it already. Mello and I will keep it in our pants unless we're in one of our rooms.”

“You're still going to be punished,” Roger said bluntly.

“Yeah, we know, but could you just shut up, ya old coot? You're giving me a headache,” Mello snapped.

Roger sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He must really wish that he could still spank us like he used to. Last time he tried, when we were twelve, Mello broke the paddle.

A small, mischievous smile slid across my face. Little kids were so much easier to control; more so than teenagers at least. My stomach growled quietly and I realized how hungry I was; I hadn't eaten all day.

Roger started digging through the drawer of his desk, looking for something.

My stomach grumbled again. “Mel,” I mumbled, pushing a little closer despite the chairs keeping us apart. “'M hungry...”

“I know, Mattie,” he murmured in response, kissing my hair gently. “Try to hold on a little longer, kay?”

“I'll try,” I mumbled back as my stomach growled a little louder and Mello reached over and rubbed it gently.

Roger had opened a file by this time and thumbed through it, pulling out three disciplinary sheets and placing them on his desk. “Now,” he said, folding his hands once more and appearing calm. “Tell me what you three think an appropriate punishment for your behavior would be. I want you boys to answer for Linda and I want Linda to determine yours.”

Was he really an idiot? My stomach had quieted a little as Mello massaged the muscles of my abdomen gently, but chose this time to get a bit louder.

“Can we decide while we eat?” Mello asked. “Because Matt hasn't had anything to eat at all today.”

Roger sighed, glancing at the clock. “Very well,” he replied, getting up and walking to the door. “Follow me.”

We walked down to the kitchen, and the whole time, Mello had his right arm wrapped around my waist, keeping me close. Not a word was spoken between us.

Mellie greeted us kindly. “I wondered why you three weren't at dinner. What did they do this time, Roger?”

Before he had time to answer, Mello pulled me closer to him and said, “Roger doesn't like how I comfort Matt.”

One of Mellie's eyebrows quirked ever so slightly. Aside from Linda, Mellie was the only other person in Wammy's to condone mine and Mello's relationship and she didn't try to poke fun at us either.

“Having sex in a hallway is by no way a form of comfort,” Roger blustered.

“Like hell it isn't!” Mello snapped angrily. “Sometimes, it takes a physical contact to make Matt understand,” he said, quieting down.

“Then hug him,” Roger shot back.

“It doesn't always work that way,” Mellie said, answering for us. “Sometimes, a hug just isn't enough to heal the pain, am I right, Matt?”

I nodded and buried my face against Mello's chest, feeling him pet my hair gently.

“So, what about you?” Mellie asked Linda.

I shifted a little to see Linda's face as she answered.

“I told Roger not to take it out on Matt and Mello because _he_ couldn't get any.” There was a snarky, cocky-ass smirk on her face so reminiscent of Mello's it was unnerving.

Mellie didn't attempt to hide her laughter as she chortled at Roger's expense. “Oh, God. Roger, my boy, you really do need to let that go.”

Wait, what?

“Let what go?” I asked curiously, watching as Roger paled almost to Near's pasty complexion.

“N-nothing at all,” Roger said hurriedly, tripping over his words in his haste.

Mellie laughed again and chuckled, “As if.”

Roger glared daggers at the cook. “Your job is already on the line, _Ms. Mellie_ , I suggest you shut your mouth now, while you still have it,” he said quietly.

Rolling her eyes and shrugging her shoulders, Mellie gave each of us a plate of spaghetti and a piece of garlic toast along with a glass of milk. She started to give Mello a glass of chocolate milk, like always, when Roger stopped her.

“Mello is being punished,” he said dryly. “That means no chocolate whatsoever.”

Mellie didn't even bat an eyelash, but simply gave him a sidelong glance. “If you don't want a murder committed,” she said calmly, “you'll let Mello keep his chocolate.”

Roger rolled his eyes. “Fine.”

When we sat down to eat, however, I lost my appetite, which was something that Mello noticed immediately.

“Come on, Mattie,” he urged kindly. “You need to eat.”

I nodded, but continued pushing my food around listlessly.

Mello sighed and pulled me into his lap, wrapping one arm around me gently. He twirled some spaghetti onto his fork and then pushed it towards my mouth.

My lips parted willingly and I took the proffered food, chewing and swallowing obediently.

“You just wanted me to feed you,” Mello chuckled.

“Uh-huh.” I wasn't scared to answer a question like that because I knew he wouldn't be mad.

As I thought, Mello simply smiled and refilled his fork to continue.


End file.
